IDOLS 


By  the  Same  Author 

SEPTIMUS 

THI  BELOVED  VAGABOND 

THE  MORALS  OF  MARCUS  ORDEYNE 

AT  THE  GATE  OF  SAMARIA 

DERELICTS 

A  STUDY  IN  SHADOWS 

THE  WHITE  Dovi 

THE  USURPER 

THE  DEMAGOGUE  AND    LADY   PHAYRE 

WHERE   LOVE  Is 

SIMON  THE  JESTER 


IDOLS 


BY 

WILLIAM  J.  LOCKE 


NEW  YORK  :  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 

LONDON  :  JOHN  LANE,  THE  BODLEY  HEAD 

MCMXI 


CorntlCMT,  ilglt   I 

JOHN  LANE 


COFVRICHT,    1905,    BY 

JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


J.  J.  Uttle  &  Ives  Co. 
New  York 


TO 

J.  S. 

IN  MEMORIAM 
M.    S. 


227603 


IDOLS 


PROEM 

Two  men  once  issued  from  the  darkness  and  broke 
into  a  house.  They  came  for  robbery,  but,  finding 
an  old  man  asleep  in  a  chair,  they  murdered  him. 
Then  terrified  at  their  deed,  they  fled,  almost  empty- 
handed,  and  so  vanished  into  the  night.  Long  after- 
wards they  were  overtaken  by  justice,  confessed  their 
crime  and  paid  the  penalty.  Their  sordid  story  is 
set  down  in  the  newspapers  of  the  time.  Otherwise 
they  have  passed  into  oblivion,  and  no  man  concerns 
himself  with  the  dismal  working  of  their  souls.  Their 
existence  would  not  have  found  a  mention  here,  were 
it  not  that  the  blow  they  dealt  was  the  cause  of  con- 
vulsions in  other  lives. 

For  under  the  outer  seeming  of  harmonious  days 
and  gentle  living,  often  lies  a  smouldering  train  of 
devastating  forces — otifled  passions  of  greed  and  lust 
and  jealousy,  splend'd  heroisms  and  enthusiasms  that 
burn  white.  In  the  common  way  of  life  no  match 
is  set  ,  which  forms  a  trite  moral  for  the  elegist. 


IdoU 

But   now  and   then    the   way   of  life   is   lit   with   lurid 
suddenness  and  the  mine  is  sprung. 

Beneath  the  surface  of  four  gentle  lives  such  a 
train  was  smouldering.  The  vulgar  crime  of  the 
two  nameless  abjects  set  it  ablaze.  And  they,  issu- 
ing from  the  darkness  for  one  ghastly  moment,  were 
but  blind,  almost  impersonal  instruments  of  Destim, 
so  far  as  they  concerned  these  four. 


CHAPTER   I 

IT  was  Irene  Merriam's  hour  of  greatest  content 
she  looked  into  her  heart  for  a  fugitive  desire 
and  smiled  at  finding  none.  And  this  was  a  source 
ill  the  more  comfort,  because  she  was  a  woman 
who  gave  unsparingly  of  herself  to  life,  and  made  large 
rlaims  upon  life  in  return.  She  sat  in  a  leathern 
armchair  by  the  fireplace,  listening  to  the  talk  of 
her  two  companions,  who  were  sitting  by  the  din- 
ner table  over  their  coffee.  Now  and  then  she  inter- 
posed a  remark,  but  lazily,  preferring  to  watch  the 
play  of  expression  on  their  faces,  to  dream  dreams 
about  them,  and  to  realise  her  own  happiness.  This 
after-dinner  scene  was  a  familiar  one;  familiarity  had 
made  it  dearer.  She  had  grown  to  regard  it  as  an 

2 


Idols 

essential  in  her  scheme  of  life,  like  sleep  and  food  and 
raiment. 

Of  the  two  men,  one  was  her  husband,  Gerard 
Merriam;  the  other,  his  life-long,  intimate  friend. 
They  had  chummed  together  at  school,  at  the  Uni- 
versity; had  joined  the  same  Inn  of  Court,  and  had 
been  called  to  the  bar  together;  and  in  spite  of  wide 
divergence  of  taste  and  character,  had  remained  in 
close  relationship  to  the  present  day. 

It  was  on  the  homeward  voyage,  after  a  Long  Vaca- 
tion trip  to  India,  that  they  had  met  Irene,  a  lonely 
girl  returning  from  the  grave  of  a  father  whose  death- 
bed she  had  gone  out  too  late  to  witness.  Both  men 
fell  in  love  with  her.  The  rivalry  becoming  mutually 
obvious,  each  gave  the  other  a  fair  field.  The  woo- 
ing continued  in  London  till  success  fell  upon  Gerard. 
On  his  meeting  with  Irene  after  her  marriage,  the 
other,  Hugh  Colman,  bowed  low  over  her  hand,  kissed 
it  and  put  a  loyal  friendship  at  her  service.  A  proud 
bearing,  emphasised  by  steel-blue  eyes  and  a  super- 
cilious up-sweep  of  a  heavy  auburn  moustache,  gave 
distinction  to  the  action.  He  had  rather  a  courtly 
way  of  doing  things.  The  tears  started  to  her  eyes. 
She  had  been  greatly  drawn  to  him  before,  and  pitied 
him  out  of  her  girlish  heart  for  having  lost  in  his 
rivalry;  but  from  that  moment  she  loved  him  with  a 
pure  friendship,  and  made  it  a  dear  object  of  her  life 
to  intensify  the  brotherly  affection  between  the  two 

3 


Idols 

men.  In  fact  she  had  raised  her  conception  of  this 
Orestes  and  Pylades  relationship  to  a  kind  of  cult,  <>t 
which  she  herself  was  the  devoted  and  impassioned 
priestess.  During  the  six  years  of  her  married  life 
Hugh  had  dined  with  them  at  least  once  a  week. 
Lately  he  had  taken  a  flat  in  their  immediate  neighbour- 
hood, and  his  visits  had  grown  more  frequent.  Ger- 
ard, being  a  man  of  few  words,  had  not  said  much  to 
evince  his  gratification,  but  Irene  had  sounded  the 
note  of  welcome  loud  enough  for  the  two. 

As  she  lay  back  in  her  chair  watching  them,^a  spice 
of  admiration  flavoured  her  thoughts.  Both  were  men 
of  fine  physique.  Gerard  was  six  feet  two,  of  huge 
frame,  with  deep,  sloping  shoulders  indicative  of  great 
strength.  Hugh,  of  somewhat  slighter  build,  better 
proportioned,  holding  his  head  erect  on  square  shoul- 
ders; finer,  too,  of  face  than  Gerard,  who  had  heavy 
features,  eyes  of  uncertain  blue  and  a  reddish  mous- 
tache cut  short  at  the  ends.  The  one  face  gave  the 
impression  of  a  man  proudly  scornful,  quick  in  quar- 
rel, with  a  Celtic  strain  of  sensitiveness;  the  other 
that  of  a  man  slow  in  method,  determined  of  purpose, 
shy  of  demonstration— -one  suggesting  rather  than  re- 
vealing strength — a  dangerous  face  to  trust.  Of  the 
two,  Hugh  was  pre-eminently  the  man  more  likely, 
on  first  sight,  to  win  a  woman's  heart  in  a  joint  con- 
test. Even  Gerard  himself  had  wondered  at  his  suc- 
cess. When  he  questioned  his  wife,  she  answered, 

4 


Idols 

lifting  glorious  eyes  of  faith,  "  Because  you  are  you.*' 
And  that  was  an  end  of  the  matter.  But  perhaps  it 
was  the  suggestion  of  reserved  strength  in  the  man 
that  had  influenced  her  from  the  first  in  his  favour,  and 
an  intuition,  such  as  so  many  women  have  trusted  like 
a  divine  revelation,  that  in  a  great  crisis  of  life  the 
one  would  be  living  rock  and  the  other  shifting 
sand. 

A  pause  in  the  talk  gradually  lingered  into  silence. 
Gerard,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  near  Irene,  manipu- 
lated his  pipe,  which  had  become  choked  and  would 
not  draw.  Hugh,  at  the  side,  half  turning  towards 
the  fire,  leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and,  with  hands 
clasped  behind  his  head,  stared  at  the  ceiling.  Irene 
suddenly  spoke: 

"  How  are  the  Harts?" 

Hugh  started  into  a  more  normal  posture. 

"The  Harts?  They  flourish.  Have  you  ever 
heard  of  a  Jew  money-lender  who  didn't?" 

There  was  an  unwonted  touch  of  acerbity  in  his 
tone  that  brought  a  quick  glance  from  Irene. 

"They  are  not  both  money-lenders,"  she  re- 
marked. 

"  Oh,  Minna — she  is  right  enough." 

"I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  girl,"  said  Irene.  l(  I 
wish  she  would  let  me  be  a  friend  to  her,  but  she 
won't.  I  wonder  why." 

"What  do  you  want  to  worry  about  her  for?" 
I 


Idols 

asked   her  husband,  between  the  whiffs  of  his  newly 
regulated  pipe. 

"  I  pity  her  so." 

u  Some  people  don't  like  being  pitied.      I  don't." 

u  But  you  are  not  a  pretty  girl  cut  by  society," 
insisted  Irene. 

44  She's  proud,  you  know,"  said  Hugh.  He  might 
have  adduced  a  reason  much  nearer  home.  As  it 
was,  he  gave  a  hint  of  it. 

"  The  moon,  Irene,  pales  as  a  matter  of  course  be- 
fore the  sun;  but  it's  an  open  questioYi  whether  the 
moon  likes  it." 

u  You  are  talking  rubbish,"  said  Irene,  calmly. 

Gerard  broke  into  a  laugh. 

u  Anyway,  I'm  glad  she  hasn't  cottoned  to  you. 
I  don't  like  Jews  about  the  place.  To  your  tents, 
O  Israel!" 

Irene  flashed  up.  **  You  can't  object  to  the  poor 
girl  just  because  she  is  a  Jewess!  " 

u  Of  course  not,  my  dear,"  replied  her  husband, 
with  a  curious  change  of  tone.  c  4  I  was  only  joking. ' ' 

Irene  came  behind  his  chair  and  put  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder. 

u  Forgive  me,  dear,"  she  said. 

He  nodded,  and  patted  the  back  of  her  hand  mag- 
nanimously ;  then  pushed  his  chair  away  from  the 
table  and  rose  to  his  feet,  stretching  himself  after 
the  manner  of  burly  men. 

6 


Idols 


u  I'm  off"  to  the  smoking-room  to  make  up  some 
trout  casts.  You  two  can  come  when  you've  finished 
the  discussion." 

When  he  had  gone  Irene  took  his  vacated  seat. 

u  The  girl  seems  so  lonely.  That's  why  I  take  an 
interest  in  her." 

Hugh  lit  a  cigarette  and  replied  vaguely.  Irene 
noticed  a  lack  of  enthusiasm,  and  attributed  it  to  a  lack 
of  interest.  There  was  a  short  silence. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  Why  should  there  be?  " 

u  You  are  not  yourself  to-night.  You  have  been 
working  too  hard  and  want  a  change.  Why  not 
go  down  to  Weston's  to-morrow  with  Gerard  to 
fish?" 

"  Gerard  hasn't  asked  me." 

"  As  if  that  were  necessary.  I'll  tell  him  at  once 
you  are  going." 

"  Oh,  no,"  he  laughed.  "  I'm  not  to  be  regulated 
in  that  fashion.  I'm  not  overworked.  I'm  as  strong 
as  a  horse.  If  you  want  to  know  what  I  was  think- 
ing about,  I'll  tell  you — more  or  less.  I  remembered 
it  was  just  six  years  ago  to-day  when  I  first  saw  you 
after  your  marriage." 

She  looked  meditatively  towards  the  fire,  a  smile 
upon  her  lips. 

"  And  I  had  just  been  thinking  how  happy  these 
six  years  had  been  and  how  peaceful  and  sweet  these 

7 


Idols 

evenings  were,  the  three  of  us  together.      Perhaps  I 
have  been  selfish/' 

He  caught  the  implication,  and  broke  into  protest. 

((  You  know  very  well  they  are  the  happiest  times 
of  my  life,"  he  said.  "  Where  else  could  I  get  what 
I  have  here?" 

(t  I  sometimes  think  it  would  be  better  for  you  if 
you  could  find  a  nice  woman  to  give  you  something 
better,"  she  said,  somewhat  timorously. 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  like  that,  Renie,"  he  cried,  im- 
petuously, throwing  his  cigarette  into  the  fire.  '  The 
more  I  see  of  other  women,  the  more  I  despair.  I  sec 
a  lot  of  them.  I've  been  married  to  a  half  a  dozen 
already,  by  popular  rumour.  I  suppose  I  shall  end  one 
of  these  days  by  marrying  one  in  grim  earnest.  I'm 
a  fool,  Renie,  I  know.  But  qut  veux-tu?  My  tem- 
perament is  not  that  of  an  anchorite.  I  know  how  it 
will  be.  A  whirl  of  the  senses — and  after  that  the 
deluge.  And  then  I'll  come  back  here  and  sit  in  thi> 
room  and  wonder  how  the  devil  I  could  have  thought 
of  another  woman.  You've  spoiled  me  for  the  com- 
mon run  of  women.  I  haven't  met  one  yet  that  is  fit 
to  black  your  shoes.  The  man  that  worships  the  sun 
doesn't  give  his  allegiance  to  a  bonfire." 

u  But  he  can  warm  himself  by  the  bonfire,"  replied 
Irene,  laughing. 

u  Until  the  thing  goes  out.  Then  he's  got  to  light 
another.  But  the  sun  is  eternal." 

8 


Idols 

She  was  accustomed  to  his  hyperbole.  The  woman 
in  her  loved  the  praise.  It  supplemented  Gerard's 
rarer  tributes  to  her  worth,  effectually  prevented  her 
from  feeling  a  lack  in  her  husband's  lesser  demon- 
strativeness.  Again,  she  was  enlightened  enough  to 
allow  relief  to  overburdened  feelings.  A  man  of  his 
type  could  not  love  her  to-day  and  cast  her  out  of 
his  heart  to-morrow.  She  never  had  a  moment's 
doubt  that  she  was  throned  there  as  the  love  of  his  life. 
But  a  magnanimous  scorn  of  thoughts  of  disloyalty 
on  his  part  triumphed  supremely  over  a  false  posi- 
tion. 

In  Hugh's  present  outburst,  however,  she  detected 
some  special  determining  cause. 

"I'm  a  very  limited  being,  my  dear  Hugh,"  she 
said  quickly,  "  whatever  exaggerations  I  let  you  use. 
But  you  know  how  deep  my  interest  in  your  welfare 
is,  and  life  could  not  g6  wrong  with  you  without  caus- 
ing me — and  Gerard — pain  and  anxiety.  That  was 
why  I  spoke.  Whatever  it  is,  I  am  sorry." 

Sympathy  could  not  have  been  more  delicately  con- 
veyed than  it  was  by  her  tone  and  look.  But  there 
are  times  when  sympathy  stings.  He  remained  silent 
for  a  moment;  then  shifted  his  position,  threw  back 
his  head  and  twirled  his  great  moustache. 

"  You  are  everything  that  is  sweet,  Renie,"  said 
he.  (t  But  I  was  telling  you  general  truths — not  pos- 
ing as  un  komme  manque.  I  hate  the  kind  of  fellows 

9 


Idols 

that  are  forever  mewing  about  for  women's  sympathy. 
It's  despicable !" 

He  rose,  and,  with  two  arms  held  out,  took  her 
hands  and  raised  her  from  her  chair. 

u  There.  Don't  be  hurt.  Everything's  going  on 
swimmingly,  I  assure  you.  The  world  at  my  feet, 
and  heaven  at  my  finger  tips.  Let  us  go  to  Gerard." 

The  smoking-room  was  a  nondescript  apartment, 
half  library,  half  gun-room,  suggestive  more  of  the 
country  squire  than  the  London  barrister.  Gerard, 
with  a  glass  of  water  on  a  little  table  by  his  side,  was 
engaged  upon  his  casts,  screwing  up  his  eyes,  so  as 
both  to  avoid  the  smoke  of  his  pipe  and  to  sec  the 
delicate  involutions  of  his  knots.  He  looked  up,  with 
a  nod,  when  his  wife  and  friend  entered.  Irene  turned 
to  a  desk  to  scribble  a  note.  The  men's  talk  turned 
upon  fishing.  Weston  had  killed  a  two-pound  trout 
the  day  before.  They  discussed  the  chances  of  a 
similar  prize  for  Gerard.  Then  came  the  question 
of  flies.  Gerard  waxed  learned.  Irene,  having 
written  her  note  and  finding  herself  out  of  the  con- 
versation, took  up  a  book.  Gerard's  love  of  sport 
she  indulgently  allowed,  but  in  her  heart  she  could 
not  sympathise  with  it.  The  wilful  infliction  of  pain 
passed  her  comprehension.  There  was  so  much  of  it 
in  the  world  already. 

She  was  glad  when  she  became  aware  of  a  change 
of  topic,  and  drew  her  chair  nearer  the  fire.  But 


Idols 

Hugh,   looking  at  his  watch,  rose  to  depart.      Irene 
protested. 

u  So  early?      It  is  not  ten  o'clock  yet." 
There  was  a  touch  of  dismay  in  her  tone.      Gerard, 
too,  bade  him  sit  down  again.      But  he  pleaded  work. 
He  had  been  briefed  in  a  hurry,  had  not  a  notion  yet 
of  the  case  which  was  coming  on  immediately. 

They  had  to  let  him  go,  and  when  he  had  gone, 
fell  to  discussing  him  as  they  had  done  a  thousand 
times  before.  Irene  idealised  and  worshipped  her 
husband,  but  her  feelings  towards  Hugh  were  com- 
posed of  conflicting  and  of  somewhat  delicate  ele- 
ments. The  man's  history,  mode  of  life  and  diversity 
of  character,  appealed  by  turns  to  her  sense  of  ro- 
mance, of  trust,  of  protection.  He  had  squandered 
a  pretty  patrimony  in  his  early  days.  A  diamond 
brooch  still  glittered  before  the  footlights  on  an  obliv- 
ious bosom.  He  had  lived  open-handedly,  benefit- 
ing more  by  his  vices  than  many  of  the  austere  do  by 
their  virtues.  Even  now,  with  modest  income  at  the 
criminal  bar,  small  thrift  was  incomprehensible  to 
him,  in  spite  of  Irene's  periodical  expositions.  On 
such  occasions  she  looked  serenely  down  upon  him 
from  immeasurable  heights.  But  in  this  man  of  so 
many  simplicities,  seemed  to  lie  a  baffling  fund  of 
reserve,  which  both  compelled  her  respect  and  kept 
her  intellectual  interest  in  him  upon  the  alert.  The 
paradox  fascinated  her  especially  in  its  extension  to 


Idols 

achievement.  For  with  a  habit  of  glowing  speech  he 
combined  a  severe  literary  taste.  A  reputation  of 
some  standing  had  been  made  and  was  upheld  by 
poems  wrought  with  crystalline  coldness.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  recent  and  sudden  opening  at  the  bar 
was  chiefly  due  to  tempestuous  advocacy. 

u  You  seem  to  be  worrying  your  head  over  every- 
body to-night/'  said  Gerard  at  last.  <4  First  it  was 
Israel  Hart's  daughter  and  now  it's  Hugh.  Whence 
this  violent  attack  of  altruism?  " 

"  I  have  everything  that  life  can  give  me,  and  I 
should  like  others  to  have  the  same.  Now,  there's 
something  wrong  with  Hugh." 

14  There  always  is.  A  man  can't  have  the  tem- 
perament of  an  Ajax  and  expect  to  go  through  life 
imoothly." 

"  His  friends  can  help  him,"  said  Irene. 

"  My  dear,  good  Renie,"  said  Gerard,  slipping  the 
last  cast  into  his  fly-book,  which  he  strapped  delib- 
erately, t(  if  there  is  one  cry  bitterer  than  another 
that  goes  up  to  heaven  it  is  *  Save  us  from  our 
friends!'  " 


CHAPTER   II 

THE  Merriams  lived  in  a  comfortable  detached 
house  on  Sunnington  Heath,  most  convenient  and  pleas- 
ant of  London  suburbs.  A  year  or  so  before  they  had 
persuaded  Hugh  Colman  to  leave  his  somewhat  dismal 
chambers  in  the  Temple  and  take  a  flat  in  a  block  of 
red-brick  mansions  that  had  just  arisen  to  glorify  the 
end  of  the  High  Street  of  Sunnington  proper.  Irene, 
with  a  woman's  eye  to  economy,  had  picked  out  for 
him  a  commodious  little  set  on  the  fourth  floor.  But 
Hugh  put  aside  her  choice  and  rented  a  sumptuous 
flat  lower  down,  which  he  furnished  in  expensive  style. 
When  Irene  reproved  him  he  laughed,  with  a  grand- 
signorial  wave  of  the  hand.  His  pigsty  and  husk 
days  were  over.  He  was  going  to  take  advantage  of 
the  fatted  calves  and  other  resources  of  rehabilitated 
prodigals.  -  Was  not  his  income  going  up  by  leaps  and 
bounds?  Besides,  there  was  his  uncle,  Geoffrey 
Colman,  of  Brantfield  Park.  He  had  more  than 
expectations.  Irene  lectured  him  on  the  vanity  of 
human  expectations. 

"  Your  uncle  may  marry  again  and  have  a  family," 
she  said,  sagely. 

13 


Idols 

Hugh  snapped  his  fingers.  It  would  be  indecent. 
Geoffrey  Colman  had  ever  been  the  correctest  of  livers. 
He  dressed  for  his  solitary  dinner  every  night  of  his 
life,  on  account  of  his  butler.  His  marriage  would 
convulse  a  "whole  neighbourhood.  He  would  just  as 
soon  think  of  throwing  a  nitro-glycerine  bomb  into 
the  parish  church. 

Irene  yielded  with  a  pitying  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 
She  had  not  lived  six  and  twenty  years  for  nothing. 
She  knew  that  in  every  man  lurks  something  of  Vol- 
taire's droll  of  a  Habbakuk.  About  eighteen  months 
later  her  prognostications  were  fulfilled.  Geoffrey 
Colman  showed  himself  capable  of  anything  by  marry- 
ing a  young  wife.  Quite  recent  rumours  hinted  at  the 
probable  arrival  of  an  heir.  All  Hugh's  expectations 
came  to  a  ghastly  end.  Irene  sympathised  with  him, 
made  elaborate  calculations  as  to  means  for  reducing 
his  expenditure.  He  listened  with  pathetic  admira- 
tion— she  had  a  regal  way  of  taking  impossible  things 
for  granted — acquiesced  silently  in  her  schemes  and 
then  went  out  and  cursed  himself. 

To-night,  after  leaving  the  Merriams,  he  walked 
along  in  the  same  self-reproaching  temper.  The 
March  wind,  coming  keenly  across  the  heath,  blew  a 
small  drizzle  into  his  face,  causing  him  to  pull  up  his 
coat  collar  and  step  out  briskly.  He  swung  his  stick 
with  an  irritation  which,  however,  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  weather.  If  only  the  past  had  been  different 

14 


Idols 

— if  only  Irene  had  loved  him  instead  of  Gerard !  He 
would  have  husbanded  his  life,  instead  of  playing 
ducks  and  drakes  with  it  as  he  was  doing.  What 
business  had  he  along  this  road?  Had  he  not  better 
retrace  his  steps  past  the  Merriams*  house  and  go  to  his 
own  study  fire  and  his  imaginary  brief?  Suddenly  he 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  impatience,  drew  himself 
up  and  called  himself  a  fool.  A  familiar  recklessness 
of  mood  gained  gradual  hold  upon  him.  He  laughed, 
gratified  at  the  possession  of  a  sense  of  humour  that 
could  look  mockingly  upon  the  portentous  seriousness 
of  this  ridiculous  world. 

He  turned  his  thoughts  to  the  cases  he  had  in  hand, 
went  off  at  a  tangent  to  the  points  he  had  made  in  an 
emotional  address  to  the  jury  the  day  before.  The 
success  was  sweet — sweeter  because  he  was  conscious 
that  the  secret  of  it  lay  within  himself.  He  had  the 
gift  of  eloquent  speech — pathos,  persuasion,  invective. 
It  had  brought  him  suddenly,  when  his  chance  came, 
from  the  obscurest  ranks  of  the  junior  bar,  into  public 
light.  A  •  pittance  had  leaped  into  a  competence, 
which  in  its  turn  might  rise  to  the  dignity  of  an 
income.  His  temperament  had  done  for  him,  a  young 
and  struggling  man,  what  legal  learning  and  acumen 
had  not  done  for  hundreds  many  years  his  senior. 
When  he  realised  this,  he  felt  grateful  to  his  tempera- 
ment, and  granted  it  indulgence  for  the  many  scurvy 
tricks  it  had  played  him. 

15 


Idols 

Accordingly,  he  was  fairly  satisfied  with  himself 
when,  after  a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk,  he  opened 
the  garden  gate  of  a  large  house  standing  in  its  own 
grounds.  He  walked  up  the  drive  humming  an  air. 
He  rang,  was  admitted,  conducted  across  a  luxuriously 
carpeted  hall,  up  a  broad  staircase,  into  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  Mr.  Colman,  miss." 

The  servant  withdrew  and  shut  the  door.  A  girl 
rose  from  a  low  chair  by  the  fire  and  advanced  with 
quick  steps  to  meet  him. 

"  Oh,  how  late  you  are — no,  you  couldn't  help  it. 
You  told  me.  But  the  evening  has  been  so  long — 
waiting  for  you." 

"  I  got  away  as  soon  as  I  could.  You  see,  I  had 
promised.  If  your  note  had  come  yesterday,  instead 
of  this  morning " 

"  I  only  knew  last  night  that  father  was  going  out 
of  town.  It  seemed  too  good  a  chance  of  having  you 
all  to  myself.  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you've  come.  It 
was  good  of  you." 

"By  no  means,"  he  said,  with  a  mock  bow. 
"  Don't  you  think  it's  a  pleasure  I've  been  looking 
forward  to  all  day  long?  " 

u  I  don't — if  you  express  yourself  in  that  sarcastic 
way,"  she  answered,  reseating  herself. 

Her  voice  was  deep  and  rich,  and  she  affected  a 
lazy  utterance — half  aware  that  it  might  warm  the 

16 


Idols 

blood  of  the  man  she  was  addressing.  It  did.  He 
had  been  irritably  conscious  of  its  seductiveness  in 
Irene's  dining-room;  of  the  seductiveness,  too,  of  her 
sensuous  grace  that  had  first  caught  his  imagination. 
"  You  are  a  witch,  Minna,"  he  said,  admiringly. 

The  echo  in  his  ear  of  the  threadbare  commonplace 
sounded  an  ironical  note.  It  pleased  the  girl,  however. 

"  I  have  been  longing  for  a  little  compliment  for  a 
week." 

* '  Why,  I  saw  you  the  day  before  yesterday. ' ' 

"  Cela  n'empecke  pas. " 

"  Did  I  behave  badly  to  you?  " 

"  No — but  I  might  just  as  well  have  been  selling 
you  postage-stamps  behind  a  counter." 

"  Forgive  me.  But,  you  see,  we  met  in  the 
street." 

' (  You  were  ashamed  of  being  seen  with  me,  I 
suppose." 

"  Minna!"  he  exclaimed,  flushing  into  quick 
earnest. 

She  laughed  softly.  c<  I  thought  I  should  get  some- 
thing genuine  out  of  you — you  walked  into  the  trap 
beautifully.  Do  you  like  my  new  tea-gown?  I  had 
it  made  because  you  admired  one  something  like  it  in 
a  shop  window." 

She  rose  and  stood  before  him.  She  was  undeni- 
ably beautiful,  with  warm,  southern  beauty.  From 
her  mother,  long  since  dead,  whom  chance  had 
2  17 


Idols 

brought  from  Smyrna  to  the  tender  keeping  of  Israel 
Hart  and  the  fogs  of  London,  she  inherited  the  languor 
of  expression  that  was  her  charm.  Yet  her  features, 
more  mutinous  than  regular,  bore  little  or  no  trace  of 
the  Jewess — none,  save  that  almost  imperceptible, 
strange  contour  of  flesh  beneath  the  eyes,  from  cheek- 
bone to  cheekbone,  which  is  the  eternal  mark  of  her 
race.  The  soft  crepon  of  the  garment  clung  to  her 
figure,  showing  its  young  and  supple  curves.  Its  pale 
yellow  shade  heightened  the  richness  of  her  colouring. 

Hugh  expressed  unreserved  admiration.  He  had 
the  power  of  a  nice  extravagance  in  praise.  The 
glow  deepened  on  the  girl's  face  and  her  eyes  lit  with 
gratification.  After  a  quick  glance  at  herself  in  the 
mirror  of  the  over-mantel,  she  sat  down  again.  Her 
heart  had  thirsted  for  his  homage,  and  had  drunk  it  in 
greedily. 

"  Now  tell  me  all  that  you  have  seen  and  done 
lately,"  she  said. 

An  easy  task.  He  had  seen  no  one  lovelier  than 
herself.  He  had  sketched  her  portrait  on  brief-paper 
to  bring  a  breath  of  sweetness  into  the  evil-smelling 
court.  He  had  the  scrap  in  his  letter  case.  Minna 
took  possession  of  it,  burst  into  roulades  of  delighted 
thanks.  He  laughed.  Compared  her  murmupngs  to 
the  low  notes  of  the  nightingale.  The  matter  threshed 
out,  Minna  reverted  to  her  original  demand.  He 
complied,  touched  on  the  gossip  of  the  day,  spoke 

18 


Idols 

lightly  of  his  forthcoming  volume  of  poems.  Would 
he  write  a  poem  to  her?  He  tried  to  explain  the 
severity  of  his  style.  Not  flesh  and  blood.  Perhaps 
on  the  tea-gown.  Thus  the  talk  was  brought  round 
again  to  the  bewitching  garment. 

"  And  this — creation — was  really  to  please  me?  " 
he  asked. 

"  It's  a  godsend  to  have  someone  to  think  of  pleas- 
ing," she  cried,  with  sudden  petulance.  "  Whom 
have  I  else?  Papa  and  papa's  friends?  They  never 
look  at  me  unless  I  put  on  something  barbaric — gold 
and  silver  and  precious  stones.  Then  they  can  reckon 
me  up  in  pounds,  shillings  and  pence.  One  grows 
weary  of  dressing  for  one's  own  pleasure.  Life  gets 
on  one's  nerves  like  a  chapter  out  of  the  Book  of 
Ecclesiastes — I  don't  suppose  you  ever  feel  like  that 
— because  you're  a  man." 

"  I  wish  I  could  make  life  less  lonely  for  you,"  he 
said,  kindly. 

u  I  wish  you  could." 

4 'Why  do  you  keep  Mrs.  Merriam  so  at  arm's 
length?  She  would  do  a  great  deal  for  you,  if  you 
would  let  her." 

"  I  can't,"  said  the  girl.  "  I  don't  know  why. 
Why  do  you  think  so  much  of  her?  " 

"  Because  she  is  the  finest  woman  I  know." 

"  Or  simply  because "  she  checked  herself— 

"No,  I  didn't  mean  that— but " 

19 


Idols 

"  But  what?" 

"  Oh,  can't  you  guess?  I  want  you  to  estimate 
me  a  little,  by  myself — not  measure  me  by  a  standard 
— as  you  do — there ! ' ' 

She  leant  forward,  with  one  hand  drooping  over 
her  knee,  and  looked  up  at  him  with  moist  eyes,  and 
behind  the  moisture  burned  the  longing  folly  of  a 
woman. 

"  I  don't  want  anybody  else  to  please.  You  are 
enough  for  me.  All  the  world." 

Hugh  had  come  prepared.  Her  sensuous  charm 
had  long  woven  itself  around  him.  He  had  long 
known  that  a  touch  from  him  could  awaken  slumber- 
ing volcanoes;  that  in  a  moment  of  madness  he  would 
one  day  give  that  touch.  Even  now  his  pulses  beat 
fast.  He  was  flesh  and  blood,  though  his  verse  was 
marble.  Yet  he  kept  a  curb  upon  himself.  He 
reached  out  his  hand  and  took  her  fingers. 

"  You  mustn't  look  at  me  like  that.  I  am  not  a 
bad  man.  But  you  will  make  me  say  things  both  of 
us  may  be  sorry  for." 

tc  I  don't  care,"  she  whispered.      l<  Say  anything." 

The  moment  had  come.  In  a  fraction  of  a  second 
he  could  have  her  youth  throbbing  in  his  arms.  With 
an  effort  of  will  he  threw  back  her  hand  and  started 
to  his  feet.  She  shrank  away  frightened. 

**  Listen,  Minna,  before  we  make  fools  of  our- 
selves. Where  is  this  going  to  end?  Have  you 

20 


Idols 

thought  of  it?  Use  your  intelligence  instead  of  your 
passions.  I  am  speaking  brutally  to  you.  I  knbw 
it.  It's  our  only  chance  of  salvation.  You  are 
throwing  yourself  away — into  perdition  perhaps.  Do 
you  know  that?  " 

He  stood,  regarding  her  sternly ;  resolved  to  set  her 
upon  his  own  intellectual  plane;  to  put  before  her 
serious  issues;  at  the  least,  to  throw  open  the  flood- 
gates for  her  pride.  Her  face  paled  slightly,  and  she 
asked,  with  quivering  lip: 

u  Don't  you  care  for  me — a  little?  " 

He  swung  his  arm  in  earnest  gesture. 

u  Care  for  you?  Of  course  I  care  for  you.  Do 
you  suppose  I  should  be  here  to-night  if  I  didn't — not 
being  a  scoundrel?  " 

4  c  Then  why  are  you  so  unkind  ? ' ' 

"  Because,  though  I  love  you  in  one  way — there  is 
only  one  woman  whom  I  could  love  in  all  ways,  and 
the  woman  isn't  you.  Simply  that.  If  we  let  this 
go  on,  you  would  be  giving  all;  I,  a  part.  This 
can't  be  news  to  you.  I  love  you  because  your 
beauty  and  charm  fire  my  blood.  It's  Oriental  in  its 
simplicity.  Have  you  thought  of  what  the  end  of  it 
might  possibly  be?  " 

The  higher  man  suddenly  had  revolted  against  the 
readiness  to  seize  the  too  willing  prey,  and  had  grown 
reckless  in  use  of  devastating  weapons.  He  expected 
to  see  her  facile  southern  nature  rise  in  passionate 


Idols 

anger — or  her  womanliness  shrink  in  tears  of  disgust 
from  the  insult.  He  would  have  acted  a  brute  part. 
But  in  either  case  he  would  have  laid  her  love  dead  at 
her  feet.  He  waited.  The  unexpected  happened. 
She  looked  at  him  doggedly  out  of  hardened  eyes  from 
which  all  the  languor  had  faded.  And  then  she  said, 
in  her  deep  voice : 

"  I  would  sooner  have  a  part  of  any  kind  of  love 
from  you  than  all  the  best  love  of  any  other  man." 

He  remained  for  a  moment  amazed  at  her  strength 
Had    he  conceived   an    insultingly   wrong   imp: 
of  her? 

44  Do  you  mean  that  you  love  me,  in  spite  of 
words  I  have  just  used  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do/'  she  replied. 

<(  I  humbly  beg  your  forgiveness,"  he  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

There  was  a  long  silence,  broken  only  by  the  tick- 
ing of  the  ormolu  clock  on  the  mantelpiece.  The 
apparent  vastness  of  the  great  drawing-room,  stiffly 
furnished  with  its  cold  Louis  XV.  furniture,  increased 
the  impression  of  stillness.  Hugh  glanced  at  Minna 
from  time  to  time,  hesitating  to  speak.  She  had 
changed  utterly  from  the  glowing  girl  who  had  stood 
up  before  him  an  hour  ago  to  coax  his  admiration  for 
her  finery.  Her  face  was  set  with  lines  of  determina- 
tion and  stubborn  character.  The  riddle  of  the 
woman  lay  open  to  him  who  could  read  it.  The  false 

22 


Idols 

light  of  the  eternal,  unutterably  tragic  missolution 
dawned  upon  the  man. 

"  I  have  made  a  horrible  mistake,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  You  have — in  misjudging  me." 

"  I  meant  that  I  have  used  cruel  words.  My  jus- 
tification was  my  intention.  I  wish  I  could  make  you 
some  reparation." 

u  That  is  easy,"  she  murmured. 

"Name  it." 

u  Ask  me  to  marry  you." 

Marriage !  At  last  he  was  brought  brutally  face  to 
face  with  the  problem  that  he  had  hitherto  left,  un- 
considered,  to  fortuity.  Indeed  he  grew  conscious 
that  marriage  had  been  but  vaguely  contemplated. 
He  had  persuaded  himself  into  a  belief  in  his  own 
honour.  The  rottenness  of  the  belief  stared  at  him 
hideously.  The  nakedness  of  his  desire  appeared 
before  him,  stripped  of  its  glamour. 

He  despised  himself,  put  her  on  moral  heights 
beyond  his  reach.  To  ask  her  in  marriage  would  be 
an  added  insult.  And  her  money  !  A  queen's  dowry. 
The  very  temptation  to  retrieve  his  fortunes  therewith 
was  an  ugly  and  abhorrent  thing.  He  ran  the  gauntlet 
of  all  these  thoughts.  Emerged  with  rebellion  in  his 
soul;  seized  angrily  at  the  first  unhonoured  standard 
to  his  hand.  Marriage — with  the  daughter  of  Israel 
Hart,  the  Jew  money-lender.  It  was  impossible. 

Half  divining  this  last  mood,  she  came  to  where 
0'  C  23 


Idols 

he  sat,  knelt  down  and  placed  her  clasped  hands  on 
his  knee.  Her  eyes  dwelt  upon  him,  softening  ador- 
ably. Andrea  del  Sarto  might  have  painted  her. 

u  Why  don't  you  speak?  I  have  offended  you? 
Asked  for  too  much?  Indeed,  I  didn't  expect  it.  I 
am  a  Jewess  and  your  people  will  despise  me — and 
my  father's  a  money-lender — it  would  be  a  disgrace  to 
you.  I  was  willing — ready — only " 

The  standard  fell  from  the  man's  hand.  He 
yielded,  utterly  disarmed.  The  woman  conquered- 
as  she  surrendered  to  his  embrace. 

44  If  I  took  your  love  and  the  gift  of  yourself,"  he 
said,  44  and  did  not  marry  you — just  because  you  were 
Israel  Hart's  daughter — I  should  loathe  myself.  My 
child,  I  thought  you  a  toy — I  find  you  a  woman — 
worthy  to  be  any  man's  wife." 

* '  It  would  be  sweet  to  be  only  yours,  "she  murmured. 

He  kissed  her  again,  then  released  her  gently. 

44  If  I  asked  you  to  marry  me  now,  I  should  be 
committing  a  base  action — for  other  reasons.  Try 
to  understand  them.  I  am  very  badly  off  for  money. 
You  are  an  heiress.  And  I  owe  your  father 
,£5,000  on  a  reversion,  which  no  longer  exists.  I 
scrape  together  the  interest.  It  is  not  heavy — your 
father  has  treated  me  as  a  friend  and  not  as  a  client. 
But  he  has  been  reproaching  me  with  the  rottenness 
of  the  security.  Until  I  am  clear  of  him,  at  least,  I 
can't  ask  you  to  marry  me." 

24 


Idols 

Minna  broke  into  happy  laughter. 

"  You  foolish  fellow!  Don't  you  see  the  obvious 
way  of  settling  it  ?  If  you  married  me,  the  debt 
would  be  dissolved — in  its  own  juice,  so  to  speak." 

His  pride  revolted.  Impossible !  It  was  mere 
trickery.  Any  honest  man  would  cry  out  upon  him. 

She  could  not  see  the  point  of  honour.  Her  train- 
ing had  not  sensitised  her  perceptions  in  such  things. 

"  What  is  to  be  done  then  ?  "  she  asked.  "  You 
won't  take  me  without  making  me  your  wife — and 
you  won't  make  me  your  wife  on  account  of  my 
money.  I  don't  believe  you  want  me  at  all." 

After  what  had  passed  there  was  but  one  answer  to 
be  given.  At  the  end  she  smiled  up  at  him  and 
whispered : 

"  That  was  very  sweet;  but  it  doesn't  tell  us  what 
is  to  be  done." 

He  glanced  at  the  clock.  "  The  thing  to  be  done 
is  to  say  c  Good-night  ' — and  for  you  to  go  to  sleep 
happy.  I  will  find  some  way  out  of  it.  And  I  will 
bind  myself  to  you  forever,  by  this  kiss.  There." 

So  they  parted ;  and  he  walked  home  with  the  soft- 
ness of  her  young  lips  upon  his,  wondering  what  the 
devil  was  going  to  happen  next.  On  the  whole, 
happy.  Quite  unconscious  that  he  had  been  fooled 
to  the  top  of  his  bent  by  the  instinctive  wiles  of  a 
woman,  herself  merely  carried  away  by  an  unregulated, 
headlong  passion. 

'    25 


CHAPTER  III 

MEANWHILE  a  problem  of  some  complexity  re- 
mained to  be  solved.  Hugh  devoted  the  morning's 
clear-headedness  to  vain  attempts  at  solution.  From 
the  position  in  which  he  found  himself  there  was  no 
issue  without  a  loss  of  honour.  The  prospect  chafed 
him  like  a  hair-shirt.  If  he  had  erred,  in  times  past, 
far  from  the  paths  of  the  homely  virtuous,  he  had  at 
least  despised  the  crooked  ways  of  the  smugly  \  u 
He  had  been  the  thief  of  no  woman's  virtue.  Such 
remnants  of  it  as  had  come  into  his  possession  he  had 
paid  for  right  royally.  There  is  a  difference  between 
sinning  en  prince  and  sinning  en  voyou,  in  spite  of  the 
moralist.  Hugh  was  an  honourable  man.  At  least, 
he  desperately  clung  to  such  a  conception  of  himself. 
Three  courses  lay  open.  To  abandon  Minna  alto- 
gether, to  make  her  his  mistress,  to  make  her  his  wife. 
By  adopting  any  one  of  these,  he  would  find  himself 
forsworn. 

He  journeyed  up  to  his  chambers  in  a  denunciatory 
attitude  of  mind.  Subjects  for  anathema  were  plenti- 
ful. His  own  folly  in  borrowing  the  ^"5,000  from 
Israel  Hart;  his  greater  folly  In  incurring  the  debts 

26 


Idols 

towards  the  payment  of  which  that  sum  had  been 
mainly  devoted;  his  uncle  for  having  played  this 
April  fool's  trick  upon  him,  and,  lastly,  the  fate  that 
had  robbed  him  of  Irene — a  clause  that  invariably 
terminated  his  commination.  Three  solid,  middle- 
aged  city  men  were  travelling  in  his  compartment. 
They  appealed  to  his  fancy  as  potential  Eliphaz,  Bil- 
dad,  and  Zophar.  If  he  had  lifted  up  his  voice  like 
Job,  they  would  obviously  have  told  him  that  it  served 
him  right.  The  parallel  put  him  into  a  good  humour. 
Shortly  after  his  arrival,  a  telegram  came  from 
Minna.  Could  she  see  him  for  a  minute  to-day? 
And  if  so,  where  ?  She  could  meet  him  at  any  place 
and  at  any  hour.  It  was  only  to  see  that  he  was  not 
vexed  with  her.  She  had  passed  a  wretched  night 
and  was  depressed.  It  was  a  long,  impulsive  mes- 
sage, regardless  of  the  principles  of  condensation,  and 
couched  in  German,  so  as  not  to  become  the  common 
property  of  the  young  ladies  at  the  Sunnington  tele- 
graph office.  Hugh  despatched  an  answer,  making  an 
appointment  at  three  o'clock,  in  his  chambers.  At  a 
quarter  past,  Minna  appeared,  blushing,  introduced 
by  the  clerk.  Her  pretty  apologetic  air  compelled 
reassuring  endearments.  Of  course  she  was  dearly 
welcome.  The  whole  of  the  dingy  room  was  lit  up 
with  her  charms.  The  very  wig-block  was  beaming 
at  her.  She  laughed  happily,  turned  towards  the 
object  indicated,  and  seized  the  wig.  Would  he  put 

27 


Idols 

it  on  for  her  to  sec  ?     She  would  fix  it  herself-      No, 
she  didn't  like  him  in  it.      He  looked  too  wise. 

They  had  a  lover's  hour,  vowed  they  would  con- 
jure light  out  of  darkness  and  be  each  other's  before 
long.  A  formal  demand  in  marriage  was  out  of  the 
question.  Israel  Hart  would  not  give  his  daughter  to 
a  penniless  barrister  and  starveling  poet,  who  owed 
him  money.  And  Hugh's  soul  sickened  at  the 
thought  of  asking  him.  Besides  he  had  expressed 
his  desire  that  Minna  should  marry  a  friend  of  his, 
appropriately  named  Goldberg,  who  kept  an  extensive 
bucket-shop  in  Gracechurch  Street.  To  inform  her 
father  would  put  an  end  to  everything.  He  would 
carry  her  off  and  shut  her  up  like  Danae  in  a  brazen 
tower,  into  which  Goldberg  would  Zeus-wise  insinuate 
himself — this  time  at  Aczisius's  invitation.  Hugh 
proposed  a  two  years'  private  engagement,  during 
which  period  he  would  bestir  himself  strenuously  to 
make  his  fortune.  Minna  acquiesced,  but  only  with 
the  outside  of  her  lips.  She  was  not  accustomed  to 
wait  for  what  she  desired.  And,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  neither  was  Hugh.  At  any  rate,  things  were 
moved  a  stage  further  during  the  visit.  Before  she 
departed,  she  desired  of  him  perfect  secrecy.  He  was 
to  keep  it  from  everybody — and  Mrs.  Merriam.  He 
agreed. 

I      hall    certainly    not    tell   Mrs.    Merriam,"    he 
replied,  dryly. 

28 


Idols 

She  cast  him  a  quick,  suspicious  glance  out  of  other- 
wise glowing  eyes.  Then  she  bade  him  farewell,  and 
tripped  through  the  door  that  he  held  open  for  her. 

The  following  day  was  Sunday.  Although  the 
season  was  the  end  of  March,  there  had  been  a  sudden 
cold  snap.  In  the  night  the  temperature  had  fallen 
and  the  wind  risen.  The  morning  gave  the  spectacle 
of  a  blizzard,  driving  sleet  and  snow.  Hugh  laid 
down  the  rough  pencilled  scraps  of  the  verses  he  had 
been  polishing,  and  went  to  look  disconsolately  out  of 
the  window.  The  prospect  was  uninviting;  scarcely 
anything  visible  through  the  vibrating  screen  of  swift, 
horizontal  grey  lines.  He  had  agreed  to  meet  Minna 
at  noon,  weather  permitting,  in  the  little  patch  of 
wood  that  stretched  behind  The  Lindens,  her  father's 
house,  to  more  or  less  open  country.  The  weather 
was  hardly  in  a  permissive  mood.  He  felt  that  he 
could  annul  the  engagement  with  a  free  conscience. 
It  would  be  madness  of  Minna  to  expect  its  fulfil- 
ment. But  knowing  that  a  woman  in  love  is  capable 
of  many  madnesses,  he  resolved  to  keep  his  tryst  on 
the  chance  of  being  able  to  despatch  her  summarily 
home  again.  He  started  out,  with  ulster  collar 
drawn  up  to  his  ears,  and  thick  gloves,  and  strode 
fast  through  the  gale  along  the  deserted  pavements. 
At  the  appointed  spot  in  the  wood  he  waited  for  a 
quarter  of  an  hour.  Minna  did  not  come.  He 
congratulated  her  on  her  common  sense,  greater  than 

29 


Idols 

his  own,  and  retraced  his  steps.  As  he  emerged 
from  the  branch  lane  leading  from  the  wood  on 
the  heath  road,  and  meeting  the  latter  at  a  point 
somewhat  nearer  the  Merriams'  house  than  The  Lin- 
dens, he  was  passed  by  a  hansom  cab,  the  windou 
which  was  down.  After  a  few  yards,  the  trap  door 
in  the  roof  was  pushed  open  and  the  cabman  drew  up. 
Hugh  approached,  and  perceived  through  the  side 
glass  Irene's  expectant  face.  On  the  window  being 
pulled  up,  he  saw  her  sitting  in  the  chilliness  of  an 
indoor  silk  blouse,  while  by  her  side,  huddled  up  in 
her  sealskin  jacket,  was  a  dirty,  emaciated,  shivering 
little  girl. 

"  What  a  lucky  chance  to  have  passed  you !  "  cried 
Irene;  u  will  you  do  something  real  kind  for  me  ?  " 

u  Anything  in  the  world.  I  suppose  I'm  to  fetch  a 
doctor,"  he  replied,  with  an  eye  on  her  new  prot£gle. 

u  No.  I'll  send  Jane,  if  necessary.  Go  round  to 
this  little  creature's  home  and  tell  them  she  is  ill  and 
that  I'll  take  care  of  her  for  to-day,  and  if  they  like 
I'll  find  a  decent  place  for  her.  She  lives  with  an 
uncle  and  aunt,  who  beat  her.  Fancy  sending  out  a 
child,  with  nothing  on,  to  sell  violets  on  a  day  like 
this!" 

^  Where  do  they  live?" 

14  At  24  George  Street — in  the  slums  at  the  back 
of  the  station.  Their  name  is  Jackson.  Come  back 
and  tcJl  me.  I'll  give  you  some  lunch." 

30 


Idols 

Hugh  nodded,  stepped  back,  gave  the  word  to  the 
driver  and  the  cab  started  off.  He  trudged  along  in 
its  wake,  amused  and  touched  by  the  little  scene.  He 
could  imagine  Irene  first  catching  sight  of  the  child, 
her  indignant  whipping  off  of  her  sealskin,  putting  the 
child  into  the  cab,  arranging  everything  off-hand,  in 
her  undoubting,  imperial  fashion.  He  smiled,  too, 
at  her  unhesitating  anticipation  of  his  immediate  ac- 
ceptance of  his  mission.  It  was  well  that  there  was 
a  woman  like  Irene  in  the  world.  As  he  passed  by 
the  house,  he  saw  her  figure  flit  quickly  across  an 
upper  window.  He  pictured  her  stirring  up  the 
maids,  getting  a  hot  bath  ready,  and  kneeling  before 
the  fire  with  a  roll  of  flannel  in  her  hands — the  light 
playing  in  her  fair  hair  and  illuminating  her  face. 
He  dwelt  upon  the  picture  until  he  had  reached  his 
destination. 

He  found  Mrs.  Jackson.  Her  husband  was  not 
in.  If  one  judged  from  his  home,  he  was  certainly 
at  that  moment  hugging  the  lee-side  of  a  public-house 
doorway,  waiting  for  opening  time.  The  room  was 
filthy.  Mrs.  Jackson,  if  possible,  filthier.  Her 
habitual  speech,  as  Hugh  shortly  discovered,  was 
filthy  in  the  superlative  degree.  She  was  also  per- 
ceptibly drunk.  There  was  an  apology  for  a  bed  in 
the  room ;  but  in  a  corner  lay  some  sacking  and  a 
bundle  of  rags,  evidently  the  child's  sleeping  place. 
Hugh  explained  his  mission ;  to  his  surprise,  met  with 

31 


Idols 

instant  success.  Mrs.  Jackson  did  not  sec  why  she- 
should  support  a  child  that  was  nothing  to  her.  She 
was  expecting  a  sanguinary  one  of  her  own  shortly. 
If  anyone  else  cared  to  support  her,  they  were  wel- 
come. For  all  she  cared,  they  could  take  her  to  a 
much  warmer  place  than  Irene's  fireside. 

11  It's  all  right/'  he  said  to  Irene,  when  she  came 
down  to  the  hall  to  meet  him. 

u  Good,"  she  said.  "  Come  upstairs  for  a  mo- 
ment. ' ' 

She  turned  abruptly  and  he  followed.  He  knew 
the  signs  of  Irene's  indignation. 

Snugly  in  bed,  in  the  room  that  former  tenants  had 
fitted  as  a  nursery — but  unused  now  for  that  purpose, 
to  Irene's  wistful  regret — her  one  sadness — lay  the 
little  girl.  Irene  went  up  to  her,  drew  back  the  bed- 
clothes and  tenderly  exposed  her  shoulders  and  bosom. 

"  Look,"  she  said. 

He  bent  over;  the  flesh  was  livid  with  bruises. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  among  them  with  a  flaming 
sword,"  she  cried,  "  and  sweep  them  off  the  face  of 
the  earth." 

44  I  wish  you  could,  before  the  child  they  are  ex- 
pecting is  born  to  them,"  he  said,  grimly. 

He  sketched  his  visit.  Irene  gave  but  half  heed. 
His  first  remark  had  struck  a  strongly  vibrating  chord. 

"  Let  us  pray  to  God  that  it  is  never  born  alive," 
she  said.  u  To  think  that  such  brute-beasts  can 

32 


Idols 

have  a  child  and — oh,  why  are  they  allowed  to  bring 
them  into  the  world,  and  given  the  most  glorious 
privilege  of  humanity  ?  " 

u  The  next  best  privilege  is  to  be  able  to  do  what 
you're  doing  now,"  said  Hugh,  consolingly. 

"  But  what  is  it,  after  all  ?  It  is  like  trying  to 
stop  an  avalanche  and  just  getting  hold  of  a  handful 
of  snow." 

u  Well,  you've  got  your  handful." 

"  Poor  little  thing,"  said  Irene. 

She  tucked  the  clothes  around  her,  and,  after  a  few 
nurse-like  touches  to  the  arrangements  of  the  room, 
took  Hugh  downstairs.  Lunch  was  ready.  They 
sat  down  together.  Gerard  was  absent  on  his  fishing 
visit.  They  imagined  him  glowering  at  the  weather 
through  Weston's  dining-room  windows. 

"  What  will  he  say  to  our  little  friend  upstairs  ?  " 
asked  Hugh,  helping  hirr  self  to  claret. 

( '  What  do  you  mean  ? ' ' 

u  Well,  you  can't  settle  her  comfortably  for  life  at 
a  moment's  notice." 

Irene  opened  her  eyes  wide. 

"  Do  you  mean  that  he  won't  be  pleased  to  have 
her  here  ?  My  dear  Hugh !  " 

He  smiled  inwardly,  but  prudently  changed  the 
topic;  enquired  as  to  her  discovery  of  the  child. 
Why  was  she  herself  out  in  such  awful  weather  ?  " 

"  I  was  taking  some  trifles  to  a  girl  who  is  ill," 
'j  33 


Idols 

she  answered.  The  rest  of  her  explanation  agreed 
with  Hugh's  conjecture.  Driving  back,  she  had 
seen  a  woman  trying  to  get  the  child  on  its  feet. 
She  had  stopped  the  cab  and  swooped  off  with  her 
prize. 

"  But  you  needn't  have  risked  your  own  life  by 
taking  off  your  sealskin  and  coming  home  in  that 
flimsy  thing/'  he  said,  with  a  smile.  "  Even  St. 
Martin  didn't  do  that 

u  Do  you   know,"    she   replied,  with   a  charming 
viciousness,  and   leaning  over  the  table,  <(  I  consider 
St.    Martin   one    of   the    meanest   characters  in    I- 
tory 

Some  time  after  lunch,  the  servant  came  into  the 
smoking-room  and  announced  that  Mr.  Jackson  had 
called. 

t(  He's  a  very  horrid-looking  man,  ma'am,"  shr 
remarked. 

"  I'll  go  and  settle  him,"  said  Hugh,  rising. 

4tNo.  Let  me.  I  shall  enjoy  it,"  replied 
Irene. 

And  she  departed,  with  the  light  of  battle  in  her 
eyes.  She  met  the  man  in  the  hall.  He  began  to 
bluster.  Hugh,  by  a  turn  of  the  passage,  stood  an 
unobserved  spectator. 

'*  You're  not  going  to  have  the  child  back,"  said 
Irene. 

u  Then    I'll   have  compensation,"    said   the   man. 
34 


Idols 


<  i 


I'm  not  going  to  give  up  my  wife's  flesh  and 
blood  for  nothing.  'Tain't  likely — we're  poor  folks 
and  the  kid  earns  a  little." 

u  More  shame  for  you — a  great  hulking  brute 
like  you." 

"  I  don't  mind  taking  five  pounds." 

u  You  won't  get  a  half-penny." 

"Then  out  I  goes  to  fetch  a  policeman." 

He  moved  towards  the  door.  Irene  took  a  step 
forward. 

"  You  dare  threaten  me!"  she  cried.  uYou! 
Get  out  of  my  house  and  never  let  me  hear  of  you 
again,  or,  as  there's  a  Lord  in  heaven,  I'll  put  the 
Children's  Protection  Society  on  your  tracks  and 
you'll  see  the  inside  of  a  gaol." 

Whether  it  was  the  threat  or  Irene's  shining  eyes 
that  cowed  the  man,  Hugh  could  not  tell.  He 
slunk  away  with  muffled  maledictions  and  banged  the 
street  door  after  him.  Hugh  ran  to  meet  her,  his 
heart  aglow  with  her.  It  was  the  eternal  combat  of 
Mithra  and  Ahriman.  He  broke  into  boyish  eulogies. 
She  laughed  a  little  excitedly  and  wiped  her  lips  with 
her  handkerchief. 

u  Let  us  go  back  to  the  smoking-room.  The  foul 
beast!  The  whole  air  tastes  of  him." 

( (  You  have  a  delicious  way  of  setting  the  law  of 
England  at  defiance,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  Bad  laws  ought  to  be  defied,"  she  retorted,  full 
35 


Mob 

of  the  flush  of  victory.      Which  exquisitely  feminine 
conviction  he  had  not  the  heart  to  disturb. 

A  little  later  she  claimed  his  assistance  in  another 
matter. 

k  It's  the  extension  of  premises  for  the  Institution/' 
she  said.  <c  The  plans  came  in  yesterday  and  I  can't 
make  head  or  tail  of  them." 

She  produced  the  roll  of  plans  from  a  corner,  and 
spread  the  sheets  on  the  desk.  They  bent  over  them 
together,  and  for  a  long  time  were  deep  in  architectu- 
ral discussion. 

11  It  will  take  such  a  long  time/'  she  said  at  last. 

I  wish  I  could  have  it  all  built  to-morrow." 

Vk  I  have  no  doubt  you  could,  if  you  really  tried," 
said  Hugh.  u  You  can  bring  most  things  to  pass." 

The  Institution  was  Irene's  pet  philanthropic  inter- 
est— a  charitable  organisation  of  which  she  was  the 
founder  and  guiding  principle.  At  first  Gerard  had 
scouted  the  scheme  as  entirely  impracticable;  but 
Irene  had  succeeded,  and,  devoting  to  it  her  impetu- 
ous energy,  had  lifted  those  around  her  to  equal  en- 
thusiasm. Both  Gerard  and  Hugh  were  members 
the  committee,  and  attended  meetings  with  praise- 
worthy regularity. 

Irene  rolled  up  the  plans  and  replaced  them  in  their 
corner. 

"  How  little  we  can  do  to  alleviate  the  misery  in 
the  world!  "  she  said,  with  a  sigh. 

36 


Idols 

Hugh  smiled.  "If  you  could  only  get  a  lever  long 
enough  and  a  fulcrum  you  would  move  the  universe, 
like  Archimedes.  But  you  will  have  to  get  to  heaven 
first." 

"  That's  just  the  appalling  part  of  the  idea  of 
heaven, ' '  she  answered.  * (  As  soon  as  you  get  there 
you  are  useless,  utterly  and  besottedly  useless.  It's 
the  only  terrible  aspect  of  death,  that  whether  there 
is  an  hereafter  or  not,  you  are  cut  off  forever  from 
doing  a  hand's  turn  for  your  fellow  creatures.  Every- 
thing has  to  be  done  in  the  little  sphere  of  your  life — 
when  lever  and  fulcrum  are  unattainable.  I  wonder 
sometimes  that  I  can  be  happy.  And  yet  I  am — 
blessedly  happy.  Can  you  explain  it?  " 

He  replied  vaguely,  so  as  to  hide  betrayal  of  a  little 
pang;  for  he  knew  her  thoughts  were  with  Gerard. 
Association  brought  his  own  to  Minna  for  the  first 
time  almost  since  he  had  caught  sight  of  Irene  in  the 
cab.  Dismaying  comparisons  forced  themselves  on 
his  mind. 

'  (  Why  are  you  frowning  like  that  ? ' '  she  asked, 
lightly. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  all  the  happiness  you  deserve." 

She  laughed,  with  a  little  air  of  mockery. 

( c  Does  it  distress  you  so  much  ? ' ' 

"  I  suppose  it  does,"  he  said.  "  Now  it  is  your 
turn  to  explain." 

But  Irene,  like  a  wise  woman,  dropped  the  subject. 
37 


CHAPTER   IV 

MINNA  HART  was  an  only  child.  She  had  lost 
her  mother  early  in  life,  and  had  been  left  to  the  casual 
care  of  a  series  of  governesses,  with  none  of  whom, 
save  one,  had  she  contracted  a  warmer  bond  than  that 
of  mutual  indifference.  For  this  exceptional  one  she 
had  conceived  a  girlish  passion ;  but  as  the  young  lady 
had  disappeared  one  night,  carrying  with  her  some  of 
her  pupil's  most  valuable  jewellery,  Minna's  love  had 
been  turned  to  hatred,  which  vented  itself  afterwards 
upon  all  succeeding  governesses.  As  soon  as  it  was 
practicable  she  declared  her  education  to  be  finished, 
and  herself  to  have  done  with  instructors  forever. 
Whereupon  her  father,  who  had  as  vague  a  notion  of 
rearing  a  daughter  as  of  fighting  a  line-of-battlc  ship, 
brought  into  the  house,  as  duenna,  his  only  sister,  an 
elderly,  stout,  rubicund,  black-haired  Jewess  of  the 
most  orthodox  faith.  As  Minna  had  never  been  ac- 
customed to  pay  regard  to  Judaic  observances,  and 
only  went  to  synagogue  now  and  then,  in  order  to 
show  off  her  new  dresses,  her  Aunt  Leah's  interfering 
piety  maddened  her  past  endurance.  Moreover,  the 
good  lady,  in  the  streets,  with  blowsy  face,  red  roses, 

38 


Idols 

gold  chain,  and  a  brooch  the  size  of  a  dessert-plate, 
was  a  sight  for  gods  and  men,  with  which  Minna 
shrank  from  being  associated.  So  when  Aunt  Leah 
died  suddenly,  Minna  was  inexpressibly  relieved. 
She  issued  forthwith  another  domestic  manifesto,  in 
which  she  announced  her  intention  of  leading  thence- 
forward a  perfectly  untrammelled  and  independent  life. 
Accordingly,  she  reigned  supreme  in  her  father's 
house,  obeying  all  her  caprices,  bending  her  servants 
to  her  will,  or  summarily  dismissing  the  recalcitrant, 
surrounding  herself  with  all  the  bodily  luxuries  that 
money  can  buy — and  eating  out  her  young  heart  in 
loneliness.  Beyond  the  strong  Hebrew  sense  of 
parentage,  Israel  Hart  had  little  sympathy  with  his 
daughter.  She  despised  his  race  and  loathed  his  pro- 
fession. He  felt  it  instinctively.  Her  company  was 
an  embarrassment.  He  could  not  talk  of  gowns  and 
laces,  of  music,  picture-galleries  and  light  literature. 
The  engrossing  pursuit  of  money-making  interested 
her  not  in  the  least.  Outside  relatives,  whose  foibles 
and  disagreeablenesses  form  so  harmonious  a  house- 
hold bond,  there  were  not.  By  the  wives  and  daugh- 
ters of  his  city  co-religionist  friends  his  daughter  passed 
with  a  sniff  of  her  delicate  nose.  She  would  have 
none  of  them.  Israel  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and 
beyond  insisting  on  her  co-operating  with  him  in  the 
interchange  of  a  few  formal  courtesies — ordeals  worse 
than  Sabbath  observances  under  Aunt  Leah's  dispensa- 

39 


Idols 

tion — left  her  entirely  to  her  own  devices.  In  the 
house,  they  rarely  met,  except  at  dinner.  After- 
wards, if  the  humour  seized  her,  she  would  play  to 
him  for  half  an  hour  in  the  drawing-room,  and  then 
he  would  go  down  to  his  study.  Her  comings  and 
goings  were  of  little  concern  to  him.  He  would  have 
given  her  a  staff  of  lady  companions,  had  she  desired 
it;  but  as  she  refused  to  be  interfered  with,  Israel, 
with  many  wonderings  as  to  the  strange  and  hidden 
ways  of  womankind,  sagaciously  refrained  from  inter- 
ference. On  one  point,  however,  he  stood  firm : 
when  the  question  of  her  marriage  came  up  for  dis- 
cussion, his  voice  should  have  considerable  weight. 
But  Minna  scoffed  at  the  idea  of  marriage  with  such 
hooked  noses  and  shiny  crowns  and  puffed  cheeks  as 
ventured  to  come  a-wooing,  and  sat  instead  at  her 
window  and  sighed,  poor  child,  for  the  prince  that 
never  could  come.  She  lived  an  aimless,  lonely  life, 
wasting  her  young  and  splendid  womanhood  in  a 
vicious  circle  of  unsatisfied  longings.  The  society  of 
her  own  folk  she  would  not.  The  alien  society  that 
she  craved  would  not  her.  She  was  a  social  leper — 
the  Jew  money-lender's  daughter.  Yet,  on  looking 
inward,  she  knew  that  the  leprosy  of  her  wealth  was 
in  her  heart's  blood.  She  could  not  cleanse  herself 
from  it,  bathe  in  the  Jordan  of  renunciation,  go  forth 
into  the  world  and  work  out  her  freedom.  She  had 
the  Syrian  repugnances  of  Naaman. 

40 


Idols 

Sometimes  the  palatial  loneliness  of  her  home 
weighed  too  awfully  upon  her  spirit.  The  torture 
of  unsatisfied  cravings  set  all  her  nerves  jangling. 
Then  she  would  fly  from  town,  without  her  maid, 
and  visit  at  Brighton  her  old  Syrian  nurse,  Anna 
Cassaba,  who  gave  up  to  her  the  best  rooms  in  her 
house,  petted  and  soothed  her,  and  uttered  comfortable 
prophecies  concerning  the  prince.  Perhaps  Anna  was 
the  only  creature  in  the  world  she  cared  for.  The 
old  woman  worshipped  her  with  an  Oriental  passion 
of  devotion. 

At  Brighton,  in  the  intoxication  of  her  liberty  and 
the  vainglory  of  her  beauty,  the  girl  sought  adven- 
tures, played  recklessly  with  fire.  She  learned  the 
languorous  witchery  of  her  voice,  and  it  became  a 
wild  pastime  to  exercise  it  upon  the  chance  met  man. 
Once  a  young  guardsman  fell  in  with  her  upon  the 
Parade,  carried  her  off"  to  dinner.  At  the  end,  she 
insisted  upon  paying  half  the  bill.  He  demurred. 
She  rose  and  declared  she  would  walk  straight  out  of 
the  place  if  he  did  not  accept  with  good  grace.  He 
yielded  the  point.  They  went  to  the  theatre  together, 
and  then  for  a  long  moonlight  drive  along  the  roast. 
It  was  audacious  bliss.  She  arrived  home  at  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning.  Anna  was  sleepless  with 
terror,  in  spite  of  a  warning  telegram.  Minna  ex- 
plained lightly.  The  old  woman  lifted  up  her  young 
cheeks  with  tremulous  fingers. 

4* 


Idols 

44  Oh,  God,  my  child — you  have  come  to  no 
harm?" 

Minna  broke  into  merry  laughter.  Only  when  the 
prince  came  would  there  be  that  danger.  She  would 
know  him  in  a  moment.  And  she  cut  the  young 
guardsman  dead  in  the  street  the  next  day,  having 
wiped  off  his  kisses  forever. 

But  at  last  came  Hugh. 

Oddly  enough,  she  met  him  first  in  the  Merriams' 
drawing-room,  whither  she  had  gone  with  her  father 
in  anything  but  an  adventurous  spirit. 

Some  shrewd  remark  of  Hugh's  had  caught  Israel's 
fancy.  With  the  parting  handshake  he  ventured  to 
express  the  pleasure  it  would  give  him  to  see  Mr. 
Colman  at  The  Lindens.  The  young  man  sought  for 
a  non-committal  phrase  of  courtesy;  but  a  glance 
from  swimming  eyes,  half-proud,  half-appealing, 
brought  a  quick  acceptance  to  his  lips.  And  that 
was  the  beginning  of  things. 

That  Minna  Hart  and  herself  came  to  be  on  visit- 
ing terms  was,  of  course,  Irene's  doing.  Her  revolt 
at  social  cruelties  had  been  fired  by  the  scant  courtesy 
paid  to  the  Jew  financier's  daughter  at  a  large  political 
garden-party,  and  her  impulsive  scorn  of  convention 
led  her  to  walk  the  next  day  to  The  Lindens  and  call 
upon  the  innocent  pariah.  It  was  like  many  other  of 
Irene's  impetuous  deeds  of  knight-errantry.  Gerard 
had  expostulated,  veiling  profound  distaste  undertone^ 

42 


Idols 

of  pleasantry.  Men  who  lent  money  at  the  God  of 
Jacob  alone  knew  how  much  per  cent,  were  not  wel- 
come in  a  society  belonging  virtually,  if  not  actually, 
to  the  race  of  borrowers.  It  was  putting  the  leopard 
to  lie  down  with  the  kid ;  setting  the  calf  and  the  lion 
and  the  fatling  together,  without  any  reasonable  hope 
of  millennial  advantages.  But  the  dawning  dismay 
in  Irene's  eyes  and  the  quiver  of  protest  about  her  lips 
had  checked  further  expression  of  cynicism.  He  had 
given  way,  even  assumed  a  magnanimous  air  of  en- 
thusiasm; and  with  his  approbation  for  lance  and  his 
visiting  card  for  buckler,  Irene,  a  modern  Britomart, 
had  set  forth  on  her  quest.  It  was  on  Minna 
and  Israel's  return  visit  that  Hugh  had  first  met 
them. 

At  the  outset  Minna  had  received  Irene's  offer  of 
friendship  with  unfeigned  gladness.  It  was  the  open- 
ing to  her  of  that  charmed  circle  of  Gentile  society  at 
whose  bounds  she  had  stood  so  long  disconsolate. 
Indeed,  if  she  had  given  to  Irene  a  breath  of  the 
warmth  of  her  southern  nature,  Irene  would  have 
taken  her  to  her  heart,  championed  her  triumphantly 
through  the  ordeal  of  prejudice,  and  the  girl's  own 
beauty  would  have  done  the  rest.  But  to  Minna  she 
was  indefinite  discomfort.  A  recrudescence  of  Jew- 
ish pride  gained  strength  from  vague,  instinctive 
feminine  jealousies.  And  then  came  Hugh.  His 
coming  disarranged  her  universe.  Amongst  other 

43 


Idols 

phenomena,  it  froze  up  whatever  kindly  feelings  she 
entertained  towards  Irene. 

This  time  it  was  no  wilful  playing  with  fire.  She 
flung  herself  like  a  mad  moth  into  the  flame.  She 
wrote  wild  letters  to  old  Anna  Cassaba.  t(  The 
prince  has  come.  I  knew  him  at  a  glance.  My  heart 
is  full  of  glowing  happiness.  I  must  tell  you,  to  pre- 
vent myself  crying  it  aloud.  I  cannot  sleep.  Oh, 
soon  I  will  bring  my  prince  to  you."  The  old 
woman's  eyes  grew  dim  as  she  read,  as  only  old  eyes 
can,  that  look  backward  and  inward  upon  tumultuous 
passion  of  long  ago.  But  in  her  wisdom  she  burned 
these  letters.  It  might  not  be  the  true  prince,  after 
all,  she  thought. 

But  Minna  doubted  not.  She  had  gained  her  vic- 
tory; gained  it,  it  is  true,  at  a  price — but  her  ungov- 
erned  passion  did  not  pause  now  to  consider  it.  She 
saw  Hugh  nearly  every  day,  sometimes  at  his  cham- 
bers, sometimes  in  quiet  meeting-places  in  the  West 
End,  now  and  then  at  The  Lindens.  She  was  happy. 
Her  daily  hour  of  sweetness  gave  retrospective  and 
anticipatory  joy  to  the  other  three  and  twenty.  The 
elaboration  of  a  distinctive  attire  for  each  interview 
was  in  itself  an  absorbing  occupation.  The  undecided 
aspect  of  their  relations  afforded  her,  also,  tremulous 
amusement. 

u  It  is  rather  sweet,  this  pretending,  isn't  it  ?  "  she 
once  remarked  to  him. 

44 


Idols 

"  What  pretending?"  he  asked,  somewhat  taken 
aback. 

4  (  This  long  engagement.  As  if  you  are  going  to 
make  your  fortune  in  two  years !  It  is  quite  en- 
chanting. And  at  the  end,  I  suppose  orange-blos- 
soms and  rice,  and  all  things  nice.  Eh?  " 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  in  lazy  mockery — they 
were  walking  through  the  courts  of  the  Temple — and 
slid  her  hand  through  his  arm. 

"  What  would  you  have  ?  "  said  Hugh. 

With  a  sigh  she  brought  his  ear  down  to  her  lips, 
and  whispered : 

u  You — and  I'm  not  going  to  wait  two  years  for 
you — but  we'll  go  on  pretending  a  little  longer." 

u  But  I  am  in  grim  earnest,  my  Vivien." 

u  So  am  I,"  she  replied,  with  a  smile. 

After  this  he  realised  the  impracticability  of  his 
scheme.  Minna  was  not  one  of  those  sweet  future 
housewives  for  whom  a  man  works  and  waits. 
There  was  too  much  "  contagion  of  the  blood"  in 
the  matter.  Yet  he  swore  to  himself  that  there 
should  be  no  irregular  union  between  them,  and  that 
he  would  not  marry  her  until  he  had  freed  himself 
from  her  father's  clutches.  But  how  to  raise  the 
money  was  beyond  his  power  of  scheming.  At  this 
stage  of  embarrassment  came  the  announcement 
that  a  son  and  heir  had  been  born  to  his  uncle. 
As  far  as  the  value  of  security  went,  the  bond 

45 


Idols 

in     Israel    Hart's    possession    was    so    much    waste- 
paper. 

A  post  or  two  brought  a  comforting  letter  from  his 
sisters,  two  maiden  ladies  many  years  his  senior,  who 
lived  a  gentle  life  in  a  little  Hertfordshire  townlet. 
They  sympathised  with  him  over  this  final  theft  of 
his  inheritance  (the  good  ladies  considered  it  nothing 
less),  but  assured  him  that  his  Uncle  Geoffrey  would 
leave  him  something  when  he  died.  He  had  hinted 
as  much,  some  months  before,  when  "  apologising  to 
them  for  his  senile  follv."  It  was  the  very  least  he 
could  do  under  the  circumstances.  Whilst  reading 
this  letter  Hugh  was  suddenly  startled  by  an  inspired 
flash.  His  difficulties  melted.  He  rose  from 
breakfast  and  walked  about  the  room,  settling  the  de- 
tails of  the  scheme.  He  would  borrow  the  ,£5,000 
from  his  sisters  on  the  security  of  the  reversion, 
such  as  it  was  worth,  pay  off  Hart  forthwith,  re- 
duce the  rate  of  interest  he  was  paying — a  natural 
thing,  for  his  sisters  would  not  accept  usurer's  in- 
terest— devote  as  much  of  his  yearly  income  as  he 
could  spare  to  a  reserve  fund,  in  the  event  of  the 
legacy  not  covering  the  debt,  and  marry  Minna  forth- 
with. In  the  event  of  his  own  death,  he  would 
leave  Minna  directions  to  pay  his  sisters,  so  that 
only  in  this  contingency  would  Israel  be  virtually 
repaid  out  of  his  own  pocket.  In  any  ca>c,  his 
tcrs  would  not  be  lose  :>.  The  brilliancy  of  the  pi 

46 


Idols 

pect  blinded  him  to  at  least  one  fallacy  and   two  un- 
sound premises. 

The  following  afternoon  he  was  at  Selwood.  His 
sisters  Alicia  and  Dora,  warned  by  telegram  of  his 
coming,  met  him  at  the  station  and  walked  with  him, 
one  on  either  side,  through  the  town.  The  broad, 
quiet  street,  its  breadth  oddly  exaggerated  by  the  low- 
ness  of  the  straggling  rows  of  old-fashioned  houses, 
terminated  at  a  common,  on  the  further  side  of  which 
stood  the  church.  Amidst  a  clump  of  trees  near  the 
rectory  glowed  the  red  brick  of  the  house  where  the 
two  sisters  lived.  It  was  a  peaceful  and  gentle  spot, 
and  it  seemed  to  harmonise  with  their  faces,  which 
bore  no  marks  of  greater  stress  and  strain  than  those 
occasioned  by  their  disappointment  in  a  housemaid, 
and  their  mild,  vague  regrets  for  the  fuller,  wedded 
life  that  had  not  come  to  them. 

Hugh  looked  around,  drew  in  great  draughts  of  the 
sweet  air,  and  then  glanced  affectionately  at  his  sisters. 
They  walked  beside  him  proudly,  holding  their  heads 
high.  They  had  gentle  but  enlarged  ideas  of  the  im- 
portance of  their  family,  and  Hugh,  in  their  eyes, 
was  the  incarnation  of  its  distinction.  The  town  was 
not  honoured  by  such  a  man  every  day  in  the  week. 
They  felt  the  admiring  and  respectful  eyes  of  Selwood 
upon  them. 

u  We  were  just  going  to  write  to  you  when  your 
telegram  came,"  said  Dora. 

47 


Idols 

"  We  had  better  wait  until  we  get  indoors/'  said 
Alicia,  reprovingly.  As  she  was  five  years  older  than 
Dora  (who  herself  was  ten  years  older  than  Hugh), 
she  considered  her  sister's  experience  of  the  world 
somewhat  immature.  Hugh  laughed,  being  familiar 
with  Alicia's  habits.  They  were,  doubtless,  about  to 
ask  his  advice  concerning  the  finances  of  the  village 
goose-club,  or  some  such  solemn  matter  which  could 
not  be  discussed  save  with  closed  doors. 

It  was  only  after  he  had  allowed  them  to  refresh 
him  with  tea  in  their  comfortable  drawing-room,  that 
he  alluded  to  the  tabooed  subject.  He  lit  a  cigarette  — 
he  could  have  lit  the  Queen's  Pipe  had  he  so  chosen, 
for  they  indulged  him  greatly  —  and  enquired  in  what 
way  he  could  serve  them.  They  looked  puzzled  for 
a  moment.  Then  Dora's  countenance  cleared. 

44  Oh  —  the  letter  we  were  going  to  write  to  you! 
No.  It  wasn't  to  ask  you  for  anything.  It  -  " 

She  looked  across  at  Alicia,  who  glanced  back  at 
her  with  an  air  of  intelligence  and  readiness. 

"The  fact  is,  dear  Hugh,"  said  the  elder,  "  we 
have  rather  unfortunate  news  to  give  you.  Your 
Uncle  Geoffrey  is  not  very  well." 

Though  he  expressed  his  sorrow,  he  smiled  at  the 
anti-climax.  The  dear,  fussy  sisters! 

41  In  fact,  his  heart  is  seriously  affected,"  continued 
Alicia,  gravely,  "and  he  can't  possibly  live  very 
^ 


48 


Idols 

u  The  deuce  he  can't,"  said  Hugh,  who  began  to 
lose  sight  of  the  humourous  aspect  of  things.  u  How 
do  you  know  ?  " 

"  We  received  a  long  letter  from  him  this  morning, 
in  which  he  refers  to  other  things  besides." 

u  You  had  better  let  me  see  it,"  said  Hugh. 

"  Would  you  get  it,  Dora?"  said  Alicia,  and 
then,  while  the  younger  sister  was  fetching  the  docu- 
ment from  a  secretaire  by  the  window:  u  I  don't 
bear  malice.  I  am  grieved  to  hear  of  Geoffrey  Col- 
man's  affliction,  and  I  hope  he  is  prepared  to  meet 
his  end  like  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman,  but  I  con- 
sider his  conduct  towards  you  has  been  simply  shame- 
ful." 

Hugh  took  the  letter  from  Dora's  hand  and  read  it 
through. 

u  I  can  get  on  without  his  money,  my  dears,"  he 
said,  bravely. 

"  Of  course  you  can,"  said  Alicia,  proudly.  u  A 
Colman  need  not  be  beholden  to  any  man.  But  that 
does  not  condone  anything  in  your  uncle's  behaviour." 

He  rose  with  a  laugh,  curled  his  moustache  to  a 
fiercer  angle,  and  put  his  arm  round  Dora's  shoulder, 
who  was  standing,  and  addressed  Alicia. 

"  What  does  it  matter  ?      Don't  trouble  your  dear 

kind  heads  about  it.      I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  old  chap. 

He  was  kind  to  me  when  a  boy — has  done  more  for 

me  than  I  ever  did  for  him.      I  came  to  see  how  you 

4  49 


Idols 

two  were  getting  on,  and  to  comfort  my  heart  with  a 
bottle  of  grandfather's  old  Madeira.  So  let  us  be 
happy/ 

U'hat  a  dear,  noble  fellow  you  are,  to  take  it  like 
that,"  said  Dora,  kissing  him. 

44  My  dear  child,"  he  replied,  with  a  laugh,  t4  how 
often  am  I  to  tell  you  that  I  am  not  a  graven  image?  " 

He  did  not  feel  at  all  noble.  On  the  contrary, 
very  ignominiously  disappointed.  His  iridescent 
scheme  had  vanished  like  a  soap-bubble.  Gcoffrrv 
Colman  had  intimated,  in  his  letter,  with  much 
deprecatory  circumlocution,  that,  on  looking  lately 
into  his  affairs,  he  found  them  by  no  means  as  prosper- 
ous as  he  had  imagined;  there  were  depreciations  in 
lands,  unlucky  investments,  mortgages;  in  fine,  much 
as  he  had  desired  it,  he  would  be  able  to  do  nothing  at 
all  for  Hugh.  And  then  he  was  practically  moribund. 

Hugh  shrugged  off  the  disappointment.  To  ask 
his  sisters  for  a  loan  out  of  their  comparatively  small 
fortune,  upon  no  security  more  tangible  than  the 
promise  of  his  brotherly  efforts  to  repay  them,  was 
absolutely  impossible.  One  comfort  remained,  for 
which  he  thanked  the  god  of  chance:  the  opportune 
arrival  of  the  letter  had  effectually  precluded  his  pro- 
posal. 

He  returned  to  London,  where  a  sudden  stress  of 
work  awaited  him.  But  the  briefs  of  a  criminal 
advocate,  chiefly  engaged  in  small  cases,  arc  not 

50 


Idols 

marked  very  high.  Moreover,  ill-luck  attended  him. 
After  three  of  his  clients  were  convicted,  he  made 
desperate  efforts  to  secure  a  favourable  verdict  for  a 
fourth,  and  his  failure  roused  his  exasperation.  His 
book  of  poems  came  out  just  at  this  time,  to  be  less 
glowingly  received  by  literary  journals  than  the  two 
previous  ones.  They  complained  of  tenuity  of 
thought,  over-elaboration;  advised,  finally,  a  robuster 
view,  a  franker  acceptance  of  the  emotional  facts  of 
life.  He  threw  his  press-cuttings  angrily  into  the 
waste-paper  basket.  What  did  the  fools  know  about 
it  ?  It  was  the  only  sphere  in  which  he  could  divest 
himself  of  his  accursed  emotionality.  He  turned  to 
Irene.  Yet  even  her  tribute  fell  short  of  its  custom- 
ary wholeness.  She  noticed  a  tendency  towards  the 
symbolism  of  the  modern  French  school  in  his  new 
volume.  She  quoted  a  line,  said  it  suggested  Ste- 
phane  Mallarme.  Hugh  broke  out  tempestuously. 

"  Why  don't  you  call  me  a  Decadent  at  once — an 
artificer  of  phrase — an  exhausted  idealist  r  That's 
what  your  criticism  comes  to.  You  feel  that  I'm  on 
the  down  grade,  and  you  don't  like  to  tell  me." 

"  Oh,  no,  Hugh !  "  she  expostulated.  "  Much  of 
it  is  as  exquisite  as  ever.  But  I  love  all  your  work 
to  be  exquisite.  It's  only  here  and  there  that  the 
meaning  is  not  quite  clear  and  the  language  appears 
forced." 

She  exerted  herself  to  heal  his  wounded  susceptibili- 


Idols 

tics.  But  her  criticism  had  sunk  deep.  It  was  true. 
He  was  on  the  down  grade,  in  every  sphere.  Ham- 
pered with  debt,  losing  his  hold  on  the  sympathies  of 
juries,  his  poetical  vein  worked  out,  he  saw  exagger- 
ated ruin  staring  him  in  the  face.  He  had  sowed  the 
wind,  was  about  to  reap  the  inevitable  harvest.  The 
high-spirited  man,  half  ashamed  of  his  life,  often  loses 
sense  of  proportion.  A  Gewitttr—or  concentration 
of  bad  weathers — as  the  Germans  appropriately  name 
a  storm,  had  temporarily  gathered  about  him,  and  he 
mistook  it  for  the  destroying  whirlwind.  Meanwhile 
Minna  came  to  his  chambers,  wove  her  Morganesque 
spells  about  his  senses,  provoking,  seductive,  tempt- 
ing, sympathetic,  instinctively  bringing  him  to  the 
brink  of  the  false  depths  in  her  nature,  cunningly 
clinking  her  money-bags  in  his  ear. 

One  afternoon  he  met  Gerard  at  the  club  in  St. 
James's  Street,  to  which  both  belonged.  They  were 
to  dine  together,  later,  with  some  friends.  The  talk 
had  turned  to  domestic  affairs.  Irene,  not  being  able 
as  yet  to  find  a  suitable  home  for  her  rescued  waif, 
was  keeping  her  in  the  house;  in  fact  was  growing 
attached  to  the  child. 

That's  the  devil  of  it,"  said  Gerard,  "  when 
once  Irene  attaches  herself  to  a  thing,  nothing  can 
make  her  let  go." 

"  Why  should  she  ?  "  asked  Hugh,  shortly. 

Gerard    lay    back    in    his    chair  and    watched  the 
52 


Idols 

blue  wreaths  rising  from  his  pipe.  Then  he  said, 
slowly : 

"  There  are  occasions  when  it's  awkward.  Some- 
times I  wish  Irene  were  not  so  strenuous." 

"  Confound  it,  man!  "  cried  Hugh.  u  How  can 
you,  of  all  men,  disparage  her  ?  " 

Irene's  husband  looked  at  him  queerly  out  of  the 
corner  of  his  eye. 

"  Irene  didn't  quite  step  ready-made  out  of  heav- 
en." 

u  It's  a  precious  good  thing  she  didn't.  Otherwise 
she  would  not  have  looked  upon  you  and  me." 

u  You're  a  poet,  my  friend,  and  I'm  a  philosopher." 

u  You're  a  married  man,  I  suppose  you  mean,  and 
I  am  a  damned  fool.  You  ought  to  be  separated  from 
Irene  for  a  year  or  two.  Then  you  would  appreciate 
her." 

u  There  is  no  necessity,  I  assure  you,"  retorted 
Gerard,  coolly.  "  And  as  for  you're  being  a  damned 
fool — well,  I  have  known  you  too  long  not  to  have 
my  own  ideas  about  it.  Anyhow,  you  are  growing 
gunpowdery — not  yourself.  What's  wrong?  " 

"  My  liver's  out  of  order,"  said  Hugh. 

An  acquaintance  came  up,  and  they  discussed  other 
matters.  But  it  was  only  afterwards  that  Hugh  recog- 
nised how  near  to  a  quarrel  he  had  come  with  his  best 
friend.  A  less  equable  temper  than  Gerard's  might 
have  flared  up  in  resentment  at  his  angry  speeches. 

53 


Idols 

As  it  was,  Gerard  seemed  to  forget  the   incident,  hut 
it  aided  Hugh  to  realise  his  own  irritability. 

Shortly  before  Whitsuntide  Minna  went  to  Brighton. 
Her  excuse  to  Hugh  was  the  prospect  of  a  colossal 
male  dinner  party,  given  to  half  the  Hebrew  bucket- 
shop  keepers  in  London.  If  she  remained  in  town 
she  would  have  to  play  Herod  ias'  daughter  at  this 
orgic.  As  the  only  condition  on  which  she  would 
consent  to  do  this — that  she  should  receive  Goldberg's 
head  on  a  charger — was  incapable  of  fulfilment,  she 
was  withdrawing  from  the  scene  altogether.  But  she 
did  not  go  without  Hugh's  promise  to  join  her  during 
the  Whitsuntide  recess. 

As  soon  as  the  courts  rose,  he  went  down.  It  was 
ovcly  weather.  Minna  looked  radiant  with  youth 
Jid  happiness.  On  the  evening  of  his  arrival  she  sat 
with  him  on  the  same  seat  on  the  Parade  as  had  wit- 
nessed the  beginning  of  her  escapade  with  the 
guardsman.  She  thought  thrillingly  of  the  difference 
between  the  two  experiences.  The  dusk  of  the  warm 
evening  was  closing  round  them.  From  the  head  of 
the  pier  came  the  faint,  languorous  strains  of  a  waltz. 
She  edged  nearer  to  him,  laid  her  hand  on  his  knee. 

*'  Are  you  happy  that  you  are  here?  "      The  touch 
and  the  voice,  the  perfume  of  her  hair  so  close  to  his 
face,  the   distant    music,   the   charm  of  the  evening, 
produced  their  intoxication. 
u  Minna!  "  he  whispered. 
54 


Idols 

"  Yes?" 

The  girl's  heart  throbbed  tumultuously.  She  had 
waited  weeks  and  weeks  in  patience  for  that  note  of 
passion.  She  hung  breathlessly  on  his  lips  for  their 
next  utterance. 

* (  I  give  up  the  waiting.  I  might  strive  till  Dooms- 
day. I  don't  care.  Anything  you  wish.  Only, 
soon." 

* '  Yes,  very  soon, ' '  she  murmured,  with  an  ador- 
able catch  in  her  voice.  u  At  a  registrar's — almost 
at  once." 

u  I'll  give  notice  to-morrow — Tuesday  will  be  the 
day." 

He  had  yielded.  There  was  only  one  Irene  in  the 
world.  She  was  beyond  his  reach.  The  only  other 
woman  he  desired  lay  ready  to  his  arms.  And  she 
had  money,  money,  money — the  only  talisman  for 
happiness  in  this  world.  Yet  it  was  a  hateful  thought. 

Even  at  this  moment  he  cursed  the  temptation, 
fiercely  fooled  himself  into  the  conviction  that  it  did 
not  enter  into  his  plans.  He  loved  her.  It  was  a 
love  match,  pure  and  simple. 

u  Would  you  be  willing,  Minna,"  he  asked,  in  a 
low  voice,  4 '  to  let  the  marriage  be  a  secret,  until  I 
can  put  my  affairs  in  order?  " 

This  bramble  seemed  to  catch  his  honour  on  its  slip- 
pery path  down  hill.  He  made  the  proposal,  how- 
ever, diffidently,  lest  it  might  hurt  the  sensitive  sus- 

55 


Idols 

ccptibilitics  of  race  and  social  station.  But  she  broke 
into  deep,  cooing  laughter. 

t(  You  dear,  wise  stupid/'  she  said.  "  That's  the 
very  plan  I  have  been  dreaming  over,  night  and  day, 
for  weeks.  And  I  wouldn't  tell  you  until  I  felt  you 
would  agree.  I  have  worked  out  every  little  detail/' 

t4  Expound  them  all  to  me." 

She  brushed  his  car  quickly  with  her  lips. 

"  On  Tuesday,"  she  whispered. 

Then  she  rose  quickly  from  the  seat  and  turned 
gaily,  facing  him. 

44  Let  us  walk  about  and  be  proud  of  ourselves." 


CHAPTER  V 

As  Minna  had  taken  care  to  have  completed  the 
fifteen  days'  residence  required  of  one  of  the  parties 
for  a  marriage  by  license,  it  was  she  who,  accom- 
panied by  Hugh,  gave  the  necessary  notice  the  next 
day.  On  the  Tuesday  in  Whitsun  week  they  were 
married,  taking  with  them,  as  one  witness,  Anna 
Cassaba,  whose  Jewish  conscience  Minna  had  wheedled 
into  complicity.  The  old  woman,  bent  and  thin,  her 
swarthy  face  wrinkled  with  a  myriad  lines,  fastened 
eyes  upon  them  that  still  glowed  with  unquenched  fires. 
Her  darling's  prince  had  come.  A  handsome  prince, 
indeed,  for  which  she  pardoned  him  his  Gentile  birth. 
But  it  took  all  her  love  for  Minna  to  reconcile  her  to 
the  non-religious  ceremony.  Its  bareness  shocked  her. 

The  Registrar  was  an  old  man  in  a  skull  cap,  with 
long,  white  beard  and  lack-lustre  eyes.  He  took  but 
indifferent  interest  in  the  pair.  A  wearied  resignation 
showed  itself  in  his  manner,  as  he  administered  the 
customary  declarations,  and  pointed  with  shrivelled 
finger  to  the  spaces  wherein  they  should  sign  their 
names.  He  reminded  one  of  an  old  scholar  serving 
out  trumpery  fiction  to  the  subscribers  of  a  circulating 

57 


Idols 

library.  A  sorry  book  he  was  delivering  up  to  them. 
A  trivial  pair  were  they  for  desiring  it.  He  wished 
them  good  luck  in  a  mechanical,  far  off  tone.  If  they 
had  put  the  fees  in  the  slot  of  an  automatic  machine 
and  drawn  out  a  marriage  certificate,  the  business 
could  not  have  been  more  impersonally  concluded. 

Out  in  the  street  again  they  parted  from  the  old 
woman,  who  stood  for  some  time  watching  them  as 
they  went  in  the  direction  of  the  new  lodgings  that 
Hugh  had  engaged  on  the  Parade.  She  would  dearly 
have  loved  to  shelter  them  like  love-birds  in  her  own 
nest.  But  prudence  forbade  Minna  to  reveal  her 

ret   to  Anna's   servants.      She   sighed   as   soon  as 
they  had  disappeared,  and  turning  her  slow  steps  home- 
wards, thought   in   her  old  woman's  way  of  the  be 
tiful  children  that  would  be. 

The  newly  wedded  pair  walked  on  for  a  long  while 
in  silence.  Minna  pressed  her  husband's  arm  tightly, 
waiting  for  him  to  speak,  half  afraid  of  breaking  in 
upon  his  thoughts,  which  she  instinctively  felt  must 
be  deeper  than  her  own.  Besides,  the  bareness  of  the 
ceremony  had  left  her  with  a  vague  depression.  It 
was  a  cold,  grim  episode  in  the  heart  of  her  romance. 
The  walk  grew  hateful.  She  longed  for  the  shelter  of 
four  walls  and  the  dearer,  warming  shelter  of  his  am 
Until  they  were  about  her,  life  was  a  limbo  where 
nothing  was  defined.  She  glanced  up  at  him  timidlv, 
to  see  him  looking  straight  before  him,  his  should 

58 


Idols 

square,  his  head  thrown  back  defiantly.  Now  that 
she  had  won  him,  she  faltered  over  her  victory.  A 
sudden  dismay  depressed  her  further.  His  present 
attitude  was  an  impenetrable  wall  closing  round  the 
inner  man.  What  did  she  know  of  him?  For  a 
sickening  moment  her  brain  was  confused  by  the  illu- 
sion that  he  was  a  total  stranger  whom  some  night- 
mare freak  had  made  master  of  her  destiny.  It  van- 
ished quickly,  but  an  after-sensation  of  fear  remained. 
It  was  so  different  from  the  joyous  glow  that  she  had 
anticipated.  She  felt  herself  upon  the  verge  of  tears. 
Resentment  against  him,  as  if  to  justify  her  depres- 
sion, began  to  spread  like  a  dull  pain  around  her  heart. 
It  was  cruel  of  him  to  walk  as  he  was  doing,  in  other 
spheres,  apart  from  her  whom  he  had  just  made  his 
wife.  She  withdrew  her  hand  from  his  arm.  He 
started,  caught  her  hand  and  replaced  it,  pressed  it 
closely  to  him  and  looked  down  upon  the  trouble  of 
her  face. 

"  Poor  child,"  he  said,  u  you  are  shaken.  Thank 
goodness  it  is  over." 

The  tears  began  to  gather  in  her  eyes.  u  It  was 
horrid,"  she  said. 

"  Well,  it  will  never  happen  again,  sweetheart. 
Let  us  forget  the  dismal  old  man  and  think  of  what 
lies  before  us.  You  must  be  bright  and  happy  on 
your  wedding  day." 

u  If  you  would  let  me,"  said  Minna. 
59 


Idols 

u  I,  dearest?"  he  exclaimed,  with  some  prickings 
of  self-reproach. 

11  Yes.  Why  have  you  walked  all  this  time  without 
speaking  a  word  to  me?  " 

A  tear  fell.  It  roused  the  man's  tenderness,  melted 
the  cold  weight  of  misgiving  that  had  held  him  silent. 
He  felt  that  he  had  behaved  brutally  to  her.  She  was 
his  wife;  nothing  could  alter  it.  Cruelly  vain  now 
were  searchings  of  heart  and  conscience.  He  had 
caused  her  unhappiness  already.  In  the  revulsion  of 
feeling  he  broke  into  passionate  speech,  bending  as  he 
walked,  to  whisper  in  her  ear.  He  spoke  foolish 
words  of  comfort,  chided  her  loverwisc  for  vain  fan- 
cies, explained  his  previous  mood  of  seriousness.  It 
was  a  solemn  step  they  had  taken.  He  was  trying  to 
realise  that  he  held  her  happiness  in  his  hands  for  the 
rest  of  her  life.  Minna  began  to  brighten. 

"It  is  foolish  to  cry,"  she  said,  "but  I  was  hun- 
gering for  a  word." 

He  laughed  gaily,  to  cheer  her.  She  must  laugh, 
too,  like  a  happy  bride,  to  please  her  lord.  He  de- 
manded to  see  the  wedding  ring.  She  held  up  her 
gloveless  left  hand.  Her  heart  grew  warm  again,  as 
the  symbol  of  their  union  gleamed  before  the  eyes  of 
both.  A  little  later,  she  was  nestling  in  his  arms, 
murmuring  her  content  in  low  dove  notes  that  stole 
sweetly  over  his  senses. 

Thus   began   their  married  life.      In   moment 
60 


Idols 

intoxication  they  touched  some  of  the  lower  stars. 
In  sober  hours  they  trod  upon  indubitable  earth,  which 
each  pretended  to  call  the  floor  of  paradise.  When 
the  Trinity  law  sittings  commenced,  Hugh  was  forced 
to  return  to  London.  On  the  evening  before  his  de- 
parture, they  were  sitting  together  on  the  pier,  some- 
what silent.  Minna  sighed  her  regret.  The  end  of 
the  honeymoon  already.  Although  it  was  not  the 
poor  tragedy: — u  Deja! — Enfin  !  " — yet  Hugh's  re- 
sponsive, u  Yes,  already,"  was  somewhat  lacking  in 
spontaneity.  Minna  marked  it,  with  a  little  pang  of 
mortification,  but  she  said,  indulgently : 

u  I  believe  you  want  to  get  back  to  your  horrid 
briefs." 

He  did  not  deny  the  fact.  "  I  must  lose  no  chances 
now,  dear.  Energy  is  doubly  necessary." 

u  There  ought  to  be  no  work  in  the  world,"  she 
answered,  in  her  slow,  plaintive  way.  u  I  wish  we 
could  live  just  as  we  have  been  doing." 

Hugh  protested.  His  blindest  flatterer  could  not 
call  him  a  fanatical  Carlylean  in  his  views  of  the 
nobility  of  toil,  but  purposeful  joining  in  the  great 
struggle  for  existence  was  a  condition  of  moral  health. 
He  apologised  for  the  platitude.  Minna  laughed, 
dubbed  it  an  old  wives'  fable  to  be  ranked  with  the 
proverbial  but  fallacious  advantages  of  early  rising. 
She  wanted  nothing  in  life  but  love.  It  was  its  own 
purpose.  It  was  the  heart  of  life. 

61 


Idols 

c<  But  the  heart  cannot  exist  by  itself,"  he  an- 
swered, earnestly.  "It  must  have  its  clothing  of 
flesh,  its  supply  of  blood.  And  the  stronger  and  more 
vigorous  these  outer  walls  of  life  are,  the  truer  docs  it 
beat." 

"  I  think  you  only  look  upon  love  as  one  of  the 
outer  graces  of  life  and  not  the  heart  at  all,"  she  said, 
pensively.  "  For  you,  the  heart  is  something  quite 
different." 

"  If  it  isn't  you,  dear,  can  you  tell  me  what  it 
he  asked,  tenderly. 

She  yielded  herself  to  the  arm  he  had  slipped  behind 
her. 

u  I  suppose  it  is  I,  after  all,"  she  said,  with  a  halt 
sigh.  "  I  hope  so.  If  not  I  shall  be  throbbing,  quite 
bare,  without  my  wall  of  flesh.  You  will  always  go 
on  loving  me,  Hugh?  It  would  kill  me  now  if  you 
didn't." 

He  answered  as  millions  of  men  have  done  since 
the  world  began:  honestly,  according  to  his  lights, 
willing  to  love  her  loyally  for  her  soul's  sake,  not  for 
her  beauty's.  Yet  the  consciousness  of  an  effort  of 
volition  in  the  matter  was  disquieting.  As  usual,  he 
took  refuge  in  impetuous  spfech. 

(  I  shall  love  you  blindly  and  passionately  till  the 
hour  of  my  death." 

The  first  morning  in  London  he  missed  her. 
bachelor  rooms  seemed  cold  and  informal  with  vague 

62 


Idols 

discomfort.  His  breakfast,  served  by  the  porter's 
wife,  who  attended  to  his  domestic  needs,  was  singu- 
arly  unappetising.  The  morning  paper  supported  in 
front  of  him  by  the  tea-pot  proved  an  inadequate  sub- 
stitute for  Minna's  pretty  face  and  sweet,  lazy  talk. 
He  convinced  himself  that  he  loved  her  truly.  But 
when  he  reached  his  chambers  he  found  a  brief  await- 
ing him  that  demanded  all  his  faculties.  In  half  an 
hour  he  had  forgotten  her.  When  he  went  out  for 
lunch,  it  was  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction  at  work  ac- 
complished. At  the  restaurant,  he  met  brother  bar- 
risters, fellow-frequenters  of  the  place,  and  found  un- 
precedented zest  in  the  keen,  masculine  talk.  In  the 
afternoon  at  his  club,  he  dropped  into  a  vacant  arm- 
chair by  the  side  of  the  editor  of  a  great  review,  who 
cast  over  all  who  approached  him  the  charm  of  his 
culture  and  the  spell  of  his  genius.  By  the  afternoon 
post  came  two  letters,  one  from  Minna,  who  had  ad- 
dressed him  at  the  club  according  to  arrangement,  the 
other  from  Irene.  He  opened  his  wife's  first,  read  it 
with  genuine  tenderness.  Everything,  she  wrote,  was 
plunged  into  utter  darkness.  She  was  yearning  for 
to-morrow  when  she  would  see  her  dear  love  again. 
A  passionate  letter  with  an  untrained  girl's  lack  of 
reserve.  He  went  to  a  writing-table,  finished  a  half- 
written  letter  of  his  own  and  dropped  it  into  the  club 
letter-box.  Then  he  read  Irene's  communication. 
It  was  a  request  that  he  would  attend  a  committee 

63 


Idols 

meeting  of  her  Institution  at  half-past  eight.  Gerard 
was  engaged  and  could  not  come.  She  reproached  him 
for  his  absence,  was  anxious  for  a  talk  with  him,  had 
addressed  him  at  the  club  on  the  chance  of  catching  him. 

Long  custom  had  caused  him  to  regard  such  requests 
as  commands.  To  please  her  he  would  have  broken 
many  engagements.  At  half-past  eight  he  found  him- 
self in  the  committee  room,  and  seated  at  the  table  by 
the  side  of  Irene  who  had  reserved  a  place  for  him. 
The  business  concluded,  they  went  back  to  Sunnington 
together  by  the  District  Railway. 

44  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself  all 
this  time  ?  "  she  said,  as  soon  as  they  were  settled 
comfortably  in  the  train. 

44  Oh,  lotus-eating,  generally,"  he  replied. 

44  I  thought  so." 

44  Why?" 

44  It  is  said  to  impair  the  memory.  You  seem  to 
have  forgotten  all  about  us." 

44  I  accept  the  rebuke,"  he  answered,  meekly. 
44  Now  tell  me  all  that  I  have  been  oblivious  of." 

She  gave  him  her  little  budget  of  news,  aware  that 
he  would  give  no  further  information  as  to  his  own 
doings.  She  spoke  of  the  waif  she  had  rescued. 

44  You  have  no  idea  how  strong  and  bonny  she 
looks.  I  have  been  canvassing  for  votes  for  the  St. 
{Catherine  schools.  The  election  is  next  week.  I 
think  she'll  get  in." 

64 


Idols 

"  But  I  had  an  idea  you  were  going  to  keep  her/' 
said  Hugh. 

"  So  had  I.  I  shall  miss  her  dreadfully.  It  would 
be  so  nice  to  adopt  a  child.  But  Gerard  thought  this 
would  be  better  for  her — and  he's  so  wise,  you  know." 

The  idea  of  her  husband's  goodness  and  wisdom 
brought  tenderness  into  her  eyes,  changing  her  expres- 
sion to  one  of  wonderful  simplicity.  Hugh  made  no 
reply,  but  leaned  back  and  watched  her  across  the 
compartment  which  they  alone  occupied.  The  cen- 
tral light,  that  fell  full  upon  her,  showed  nothing,  in 
her  face,  of  the  practical,  capable  woman  of  affairs; 
only  the  soft  charm  of  girlhood,  that  lingered  still  in 
her  eight  and  twenty  years.  Presently  she  bent  for- 
ward. 

"  Why  do  you  look  at  me  like  that?  "  she  asked, 
smiling. 

"  I  was  dipping  into  the  poem  of  your  face,  and 
reading  my  favourite  bits,"  he  replied,  half  seriously. 

"What  are  they?" 

( (  Oh,  I  am  not  going  to  talk  Shakespearian  comedy 
to  you,"  he  answered,  laughing.  "  So  you  needn't 
expect  it." 

The  jest  put  her  into  a  mood  of  light  frivolity. 
They  discussed  faces.  Some  were  sermons,  some 
were  Hymns,  Ancient  and  Modern,  some  were  comic 
operas,  some  were  post-office  directories,  whilst  others 
were  the  collected  works  of  minor  poets.  She  won- 
5  65 


Idols 

dered  what  her  own  was.  Hugh  suggested  an  ode. 
The  comparison  pleased  her  and  she  thanked  him 
prettily.  Really,  she  had  been  a  most  ugly  child. 
Just  as  if  she  had  been  at  a  feast  of  features  and  stolen 
the  scraps.  The  foolish  chat  took  them  to  Sunnington. 
He  walked  with  her  as  far  as  the  gate  of  her  house. 

<(  When  are  you  coming  to  dinner?  " 

"  The  day  after  to-morrow/'  he  said,  after  a  mo- 
ment's reflection. 

He  shook  hands  with  her  and  turned  homeward  with 
a  buoyant  step.  He  felt  happy,  exhilarated,  a  differ- 
ent man  from  the  bereaved  and  depressed  bridegroom 
who  had  set  out  in  the  morning.  The  day  had 
opened  with  a  wretched  sense  of  loss ;  it  closed  with 
a  glad  consciousness  of  gain.  He  wondered  at  the 
change.  The  fact  was  that  the  small  but  varied 
incidents  of  the  day,  bringing  him  into  close  touch 
with  the  external  world  of  work,  action,  thought  and 
sympathy,  had  stimulated  a  somewhat  flagging  moral 
energy.  He  was  conscious  of  this  as  he  dwelt  upon 
them.  Yes,  these  were  the  things  that  made  life 
worth  the  living.  These  together  formed  the  heart 
of  life.  Witnout  them  he  would  perish  of  inanition. 
Love,  even  sweet,  wedded  love  a  fortnight  old,  was 
but  the  fringe,  the  grace,  the  colour,  the  what  you  will 
of  adornment  of  life;  but  its  heart — ah,  no!  He 
was  honest  and  dishonest  with  himself  at  once.  The 
conviction  that  he  had  spent  his  first  day  of  absence 

66 


Idols 

from  his  wife,  in  whole-hearted  enjoyment  of  the  outer 
world,  was  too  absolute  for  him  to  accept  it  otherwise 
than  frankly.  But  deep  down  in  his  soul  were  warn- 
ing glimmerings  of  a  truth  to  which  he  defiantly 
blinded  his  eyes — glimmerings  that  duskly  revealed  a 
love  that  might  be  the  heart  of  life,  rich,  throbbing, 
vitalising,  such  as  his  feelings  for  Minna  were  not. 

He  drew  her  letter  from  his  pocket  and  read  it 
through  again.  His  heart  smote  him  sorely  for  not 
feeling  more  miserable.  Instinctively  he  conjured  up 
the  hours  of  sweet  intoxication  and  caught  at  their 
lingering  glamour. 

"  Poor  little  girl,"  he  said  aloud,  rising  to  his  feet. 
"  How  wretched  she  must  be  at  this  moment." 

He  sat  down  at  his  writing-table. 

"  Sweet  little  wife,"  he  began,  "  I  would  that  you 
were  with  me  now."  And,  for  the  hour,  he  was 
quite  sincere. 


67 


CHAPTER   VI 

u  I  HAVE  something  serious  to  say  to  you,  my 
daughter/' 

The  speaker  was  Israel  Hart.  The  place,  his 
study,  a  commodious  apartment  overlooking  the  front 
drive,  of  which  the  most  striking  features  were  a  great 
library  table  and  a  solid  iron  safe.  The  time  was  a 
mid-autumn  Sunday  afternoon.  A  cheerful  fire  showed 
up  the  warmth  of  a  Turkey  carpet,  and  cast  flickering 
gleams  upon  the  varnished  surfaces  of  the  three  oil 
pictures  on  the  walls.  The  money-lender  was  sitting 
at  the  table,  with  some  correspondence  in  front  of 
him,  when  he  greeted  Minna,  who  had  come  in  obe- 
dience to  a  summons,  with  this  announcement.  He 
was  a  man  of  over  sixty,  stout  and  loose- featured,  with 
grizzling  hair  and  beard.  His  race  was  clearly  written 
on  his  countenance,  which  bore,  ioo,  that  stamp  of 
his  calling  which  can  best  be  suggested  negatively  as 
an  absence  of  spirituality.  The  absorbing  pursuit  of 
money  hardens  the  eyes  and  leaves  the  lower  part 
of  the  face  undetermined.  One  meets  a  thousand 
such,  morning  and  evening,  in  suburban  trains.  Yet 
the  face  of  Israel  Hart  was  not  without  marks  of  in- 
tegrity and  even  of  a  certain  benevolence. 

68 


Idols 

Minna  crossed  the  room  slowly  to  the  fireplace  and 
rested  one  small  shoe  on  the  fender. 

"  Yes,  papa?" 

u  I  have  here  a  formal  letter  from  my  good  friend, 
Simeon  Goldberg,  which  I  wish  you  to  read." 

u  About  marrying  me?  " 

"  Yes.      It  deals  exclusively  with  the  subject." 

"  What  is  the  use  of  my  reading  the  letter?  "  she 
said,  without  shifting  her  attitude,  and  ignoring  the 
letter  which  her  father  had  wheeled  round  in  his  chair 
in  order  to  offer  her.  u  I  can  guess  what's  in  it. 
Oh,  dear!  Why  does  he  worry?  " 

"  I  desire  you  to  read  it,  Minna,"  said  her  father. 

She  moved,  took  it  from  him,  read  it  nonchalantly, 
with  a  contemptuous  smile,  and  threw  it,  with  a  wom- 
an's charming  awkwardness  in  throwing, upon  the  table. 

( (  I  might  be  shares  in  a  new  company  he  was  ask- 
ing you  for.  Do  I  look  like  a  scrip  or  a  bond?  I 
won't  have  him,  of  course,  but  when  you  write  to 
him,  tell  him*  that  that's  not  the  way  to  win  a  woman 
with  blood  in  her  veins." 

u  You're  a  foolish  girl,  Minna.  If  you  have  any 
kind  of  regard  for  my  wishes  you  will  give  this  matter 
further  consideration.  Where  will  you,  Minna  Hart, 
find  a  better  match  ? ' ' 

"  Oh,  in  a  penny  box!"  she  cried,  flippantly. 
u  At  least  it  would  have  some  latent  fire  at  the  end 
of  it!" 

69 


Idols 

"  You  will  regret  it,"  said  her  father. 

"  It  will  be  something  to  do,  then.  Tell  him  I'll 
try.  It  may  soothe  his  vanity." 

"  Come  here,  my  daughter,"  said  the  old  man. 

She  moved  obediently  to  his  side  and  put  her  hand 
in  his  that  was  held  open. 

"  You  and  I  have  managed  to  drift  quite  apart,  but 
I  am  your  father  and  must  think  for  you.  What  arc 
you  going  to  do,  when  I  am  gone,  if  you  don't  get 
some  good  man  to  take  car*  of  you  ?  ' 

She  looked  at  him  rather  pityingly.  It  was  such  a 
futile  question.  Her  undeveloped  sympathies  saw 
only  its  ludicrous,  not  its  pathetic  side. 

"  Oh,  I  shall  marry  some  day/'  she  said,  lightly. 
u  You  need  have  no  fear  of  th 

"Ay.      But  whom?" 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  tapped  her  toe  on 
the  carpet  with  a  shade  of  irritation.  It  was  ridicu- 
lous to  stand  there  like  a  tableau  vivant,  holding  hei 
father's  hand. 

"  Think  of  Simeon  Goldberg,  a  good  friend,  a  mar 
not  so  careless  in  observance  of  the  Law  as  we — but 
still  of  the  Reformed  faith — and  worth" — his  voic€ 
grew  unconsciously  reverential — "  five  hundred  thou- 
sand pounds,  if  he's  worth  a  penny." 

The  girl's  eyes  flashed  for  a  second,  then  grew 
again  contemptuous. 

"  It's  an  absolute  impossibility.  You  must  let  this 
70 


Idols 

drop,  papa.  We  don't  live  in  the  Middle  Ages  when 
you  could  put  me  on  bread  and  water  and  lock  me  up 
until  I  consented;  or  in  patriarchal  times,  when  you 
could  curse  me  for  disobeying  you — so  why  discuss  the 
matter  further?  I  shall  marry  in  my  own  good  time. 
I  am  not  the  sort  that  old  maids  are  made  of." 

He  released  her  hand  and  turned  towards  the  table. 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  taking  up  a  pen,  "I  will  not 
force  you.  But  remember  that  your  choice  among 
our  people  is  limited." 

u  I  might  choose  outside  them,"  she  said,  pausing 
in  her  lazy  walk  towards  the  door. 

Israel  Hart  started  round  in  the  chair  and  bent  his 
brows  upon  her.  She  tried  saucily  to  meet  his  eyes, 
but  hers  sank  abashed. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  sternly.  u  Let  me  never 
hear  you  say  such  a  thing  again,  even  in  jest.  Re- 
member you  are  a  Jewess. ' ' 

She  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  twitching  her  fin- 
gers, longing  to  retort.  But  she  did  not  dare.  It 
was  only  when  she  found  herself  outside  his  door  that 
she  gave  vent  to  the  passionate  outburst : 

( (  Would  to  God  the  accursed  race  had  perished 
with  the  other  ten  tribes !  ' ' 

She  went  upstairs  to  her  bedroom  with  anger  and 
foreboding  at  her  heart,  and  put  on  hat  and  jacket, 
casting  mere  mechanical  glances  at  the  mirror,  for  the 
sake  of  adjustment.  Six  months  before,  her  dressing 

71 


Idols 

to  meet  Hugh  had  Been  a  matter  of  sweet  and  import 
ant  coquetry.  She  looked,  however,  very  pretty  ii 
her  dark-blue  costume,  with  dainty  ruffle  at  her  throat 
when  she  met  him  three-quarters  of  an  hour  later  ii 
Kensington  Gardens.  He  was  walking  moodily  u] 
and  down  the  broad  walk,  near  their  appointed  meet 
ing  place;  but  when  he  caught  sight  of  her  he  quick 
ened  his  step. 

"  I  am  sorry  I'm  late,"  she  said,  with  some  petu 
lance;  "  but  when  you  will  make  me  take  these  lonj 
journeys ' ' 

"It  is  not  my  fault,  dear,"  he  said,  casually.      " 
told  you  I  was  lunching  at  Lancaster  Gate  and  wa 
going  to  put  in  a  call  near  by  before  dinner.      It  wa 
my  only  hour." 

"  Oh,  well,  never  mind.  I'm  here  now.  It  wa 
papa  who  kept  me.  I've  been  discussing  matrimony 
with  him." 

41  In  the  abstract,  or " 

"  Both.  It  began  with  the  all  too  concrete  Gold 
berg.  Refusing  him,  I'm  to  marry  an  abstract  Jev 
or  the  curse  of  Abraham  will  fall  upon  me 

<(  Be  more  precise,  if  you  don't  mind,"  he  said 
seriously. 

She  gave  him  a  detailed  account  of  the  conversation 
picturesquely  satiric.  Hugh  listened  sombrely,  hold 
ing  his  stick  with  both  hands  behind  his  back,  as  thn 
strolled  slowly  down  among  the  fallen  leaves. 


Idols 

"  So  he'll  never  consent,"  she  concluded.  <(  I 
suppose  we'll  have  to  wait  until — well — the  ordinary 
way  of  nature.  He's  an  old  man." 

"  We  mustn't  think  of  that,  my  child,"  said  Hugh, 
with  some  gentleness. 

"  I  don't  see  why  not.  It  will  solve  all  our  diffi- 
culties." 

"  What  a  mixture  of  flint  and  flesh  you  are,  Min- 
na," he  said,  regarding  her  curiously. 

"  I  never  pretend  to  love  where  I  don't,"  she 
replied.  u  And  when  people  thwart  me  I  begin  to 
dislike." 

They  walked  on  a  little  in  silence,  turned  and  re- 
traced their  steps.  The  dusk  began  to  gather  round 
them  and  the  autmun  mist  to  hang  upon  the  thinning 
branches.  Minna  shivered  a  little  and  took  his  arm. 

u  Why  don't  you  say  something  kind  to  me,  Hugh 
dear?  "  she  said,  plaintively. 

He  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and  they  went  on  their 
way  less  far  apart  than  before.  Presently  she  asked 
him  where  he  was  going  to  dine. 

"At  the  Merriams." 

"I  wish  to  goodness  you  wouldn't!"  she  ex- 
claimed, petulantly. 

"  My  dear  girl,  because  I  am  secretly  married  to 
you,  I  am  not  going  to  give  up  my  dearest  and  oldest 
friends." 

"  I  hate  them.      You  know  I  do." 
73 


Idols 

"  It's  a  pity,  my  dear,  but  it  can't  be  helped. 
And  haven't  we  discussed  this  rather  too  often  lat< 

"  You  do  very  little  to  please  me,"  she  said. 

11  I  would  do  anything  in  reason." 

u  If  you  loved  me,  you  would  not  think  of  reason. " 

u  Look  here,  Minna,"  said  Hugh,  losing  patience, 
"  what  do  you  want?  Of  course  I  love  you.  But  as 
things  are,  I  must  lead  my  own  life.  If  you  were 
always  with  me,  there  would  be  modifications — nat- 
urally. I  am  getting  as  tired  of  this  half  and  half 
state  as  you  are.  I  was  going  soon  to  approach  your 
father  on  the  subject.  But  what  you  have  told  me 
this  afternoon  has  somewhat  disturbed  my  plans.  We 
must  wait  a  little  longer.  But  in  the  meantime " 

u  I  don't  mind  waiting  at  all,"  she  interrupted. 
"  It  isn't  that." 

"  Well,  what  is  it,  dear,  that  I  can  do  for  you?  " 

u  I  see  so  little  of  you — and  you  don't  seem  to  care. 
If  you  go  on  like  this,  I  feel  I  shall  grow  to  dislike 
you — and  you  are  my  husband — and  oh,  darling,  I 
want  you  so  sometimes!  " 

All  the  seductive  richness  in  her  voice  toned  the 
last  appeal.  Hugh's  conscience  pricked  him.  He 
had  of  late  felt  himself  drifting  far  from  her  and  had 
made  no  efforts  to  reapproach.  Now,  however,  the 
pathetic  and  languorous  appeal  caused  him  to  bend  his 
head  very  tenderly. 

"  Tell  me  what  to  do,  sweetkeart." 
74 


Idols 

' i  Ah  !  you  know, ' '  she  murmured. 

"  The  window?" 

She  pressed  his  arm  tightly.  u  I  shall  go  to  sleep 
o  happy." 

So  he  promised  and  the  girl's  face  brightened.  Soon 
fterwards  they  parted.  Minna  drove  homewards  in 

cab,  kissing  her  hand  to  him  as  it  moved  off,  and 
lugh  walked  along  towards  Lancaster  Gate,  deep  in 
roubled  thought.  It  was  an  ill-starred  marriage. 
Already  he  regretted  his  folly  and  his  weakness.  If 
bey  had  shared  the  same  home,  living  a  common  life, 
e  felt  that  he  could  have  maintained  a  constantly 
ender  attitude  towards  her,  by  means  of  a  passive 
cceptance  of  his  lot.  But  in  the  present  circum- 
tances,  the  nature  of  things  demanded  of  him  active 
emonstration.  The  necessary  intriguing  was  repug- 
lant  to  him.  To  visit  his  wife  like  a  thief  in  the 
light  was  an  act  from  which  he  shrank  as  from  some- 
hing  mean  and  degrading.  A  passionate  love  would 
lave  swept  away  pettier  feelings.  It  is  only  such  a 
:>ve  that  laughs  at  locksmiths;  a  waning  passion  be- 
tows  on  them  irritable  curses.  The  prospect  of 
ntering  The  Lindens,  late  at  night,  by  a  window 
/hich  Minna  secretly  unlatched,  and  creeping  thief- 
rise  up  the  stairs  to  her  apartments,  had  lost  its  edge 
f  romance.  He  had  promised,  however,  and  it  be- 
ame  a  disagreeable  duty. 

It  damped  his  spirits  for  the  evening.  Even  Irene 
75 


Idols 

could  not  cheer  him.  Conversation  degenerated  into 
futile  bar  gossip  between  Gerard  and  himself,  which 
they  protracted  sleepily  till  a  late  hour.  When  at  last 
he  found  himself  with  Minna,  who  had  taken  infinite 
pains  to  make  her  beauty  as  attractive  as  possible, 
she  reopened,  with  feminine  inconsistency,  the  chapter 
of  the  Merriams  and  sent  him  away,  after  a  little, 
angry  and  disheartened. 

His  unqualified  refusal  to  allow  his  regard  for  her  to 
affect  his  relations  with  his  friends  gradually  magnified 
itself,  through  the  girl's  jealousy,  into  a  great  wrong. 
Once  at  the  turn  of  a  road  she  met  him  with  them 
face  to  face.  The  after-glow  of  laughter  was  in 
Irene's  eyes.  Minna  acknowledged  their  salute  with 
sullen  stiffness,  and  when  Hugh  fell  back  a  pace  and 
turned  to  her  with  outstretched  hand,  she  dismissed 
him  angrily.  Her  face  wore  the  hardened  expression 
he  had  seen  on  it  once  before.  Then  he  had  attrib- 
uted it  to  strength.  But  now  it  seemed  to  reveal  only 
sulky  ill-breeding.  A  phrase  defining  her  flashed 
through  his  mind.  She  looked  common. 

44  What  a  peculiarly  disagreeable  young  woman," 
said  Gerard,  as  he  rejoined  his  friends. 

Hugh  winced.  Although  not  ill  pleased  to  see  that 
Gerard  had  no  suspicions  of  the  relations  betweeit 
himself  and  Minna,  the  outspoken  judgment  on  his 
wife  was  anything  hut  gratifying. 

He  struggled,  however,  to  atone  by  gentl< 
76 


Idols 

nis  grievous  iault  in  marrying  her.  But  it  was  a  futile 
task  to  try  to  convince  a  jealous,  untrained  girl,  who 
reasoned  from  her  appetites  and  argued  from  her  pas- 
sions. At  last  he  gave  it  up  with  a  helpless  gesture 
of  impatience. 

u  It  seems  beyond  your  nature  to  comprehend  the 
bond  between  the  Merriams  and  myself,"  he  said, 
one  day. 

She  laughed  scornfully.  u  It  would  appeal  to  the 
meanest  understanding.  (  A  man  and  his  wife  and 
the  Tertium  Quid.'  " 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  made  such  an  insinua- 
tion. A  second  passed  before  he  could  quite  realise 
the  scope  of  her  words.  Then  the  anger  blazed  in 
his  eyes  and  the  girl  shrank  back  frightened. 

u  If  you  ever  say  such  a  silly  and  wicked  thing 
again,"  he  said,  u  I  will  not  speak  to  you  again  as 
long  as  I  live." 

He  left  her  there  and  then,  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  and  returned  homewards  with  angry  strides. 
The  first  available  post  brought  him  a  repentant  letter. 
A  semblance  of  harmony  was  re-established.  Thence- 
forward Minna  kept  silence  concerning  Irene,  but  she 
none  the  less  harboured  a  bitter  resentment  against 
her  husband.  The  habit  of  brooding  over  grievances 
grew  into  a  disastrous  occupation.  They  rarely  spent 
a  non-recriminative  hour.  The  issue  of  dispute,  no 
longer  Irene,  became  in  turns  his  work,  his  social 

77 


Idols 

engagements,  his  neglect,  his  aloofness,  even  his  Gen- 
tile birth  and  inherited  instincts. 

And  so  the  dreary  months  wore  on.  At  last  cer- 
tain -horrible  fears  that  had  been  vaguely  haunting  the 
girl's  ignorance  developed  into  certainties.  The  pros- 
pect of  maternity  was  inexpressibly  repugnant  to  her 
idle,  sensuous  nature.  The  thought  became  a  night- 
mare. So  bitterly  did  she  resent  Hugh's  attitude 
towards  her,  that  she  shrank  from  telling  him.  At 
last  she  made  up  her  mind,  wrote  to  him  asking  for 
an  interview  at  his  chambers.  He  replied  that  he 
would  be  engaged  in  court  at  the  time  she  mentioned, 
and  regretted  that  he  could  not  see  her  until  the  next 
day.  Quite  an  affectionate  and  courteous  letter  t: 
a  busy  and  unsuspecting  man.  Hut  it  sent  her  into 
an  unreasoning  passion  of  anger.  She  tore  the  letter 
into  tiny  fragments,  ordered  her  boxes  to  be  packed 
and  went  off  forthwith  to  Brighton. 

It  was  only  a  fortnight  afterwards  that  Hugh  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Anna  Cassaba  telling  of  an  acci- 
dent, illness  and  a  premature  end  of  troubles.  In 
consternation  he  took  the  first  train  down.  Minna 
refused  to  see  him.  Old  Anna  was  in  great  distress. 
Hugh's  handsome  face  and  proud  bearing  had  won  her 
heart.  To  act  the  stern  janitress  taxed  all  her  love 
for  her  darling.  She  sought  to  alleviate  his  disappoint- 
ment, suggested  that  women  often  had  strange,  un- 
accountable fancies  and  aversions.  Better  to  leave 

78 


Idols 

the  poor  child  alone  for  the  present.  When  she  re- 
covered she  would  be  her  own  gay  self  again — forget 
the  irrational  dislike  she  had  conceived  for  him,  love 
him  with  all  her  old  love  and  there  would  yet  be  a 
bonny  babe  of  theirs  for  old  Anna  to  dandle  on  her 
knees  before  she  died. 

The  man's  pity  and  tenderness  were  wonderfully 
quickened.  If  she  had  willed,  he  would  have  folded 
her  in  his  arms  and  made  her  sick  bed  sweet.  He 
scribbled  a  hasty  line. 

u  Darling — I  am  grieved  to  the  heart.  Your  hus- 
band loves  you,  dear,  with  a  fresher  love.  Let  me 
tell  you  so — and  tell  you  to  get  well,  when  all  things 
will  be  different  and  dear  again. ' ' 

The  old  woman  took  the  note  to  Minna.  He 
crept  up  to  the  bedroom  door,  listened,  heard  the  faint 
rustle  of  the  paper  in  her  hands,  and  then  came  her 
voice,  irritable  and  peevish: 

u  Tell  him  to  go  away  and  let  me  be." 

So  Hugh  returned  to  London  heavy-hearted,  with 
a  gnawing  sense  of  having  ruined  the  girl's  life.  The 
weeks  went  past.  Early  in  the  New  Year  Minna 
returned  to  her  father's  house,  looking  ill  and  worn. 
Israel  noticed  the  change,  grew  solicitous  as  to  her 
well-being.  Why  had  she  not  told  him  she  had  been 
poorly  at  Brighton?  He  would  have  given  her  all  the 
care  and  nursing  that  money  could  provide.  His  kind 
words  caused  her  a  faint  stirring  of  emotion — an 

79 


Idols 

adumbration  of  a  tenderness  that  might  have  been; 
and  as  the  loneliness  and  aimlessness  of  her  life  grew 
more  oppressive,  an  instinct  of  self-preservation  drew 
her  nearer  to  his  side.  The  horror  of  her  illness  still 
clung  to  her.  It  was  a  kind  of  Maccabrc  dance  over 
her  dead  passion.  Yet  she  was  conscious  of  wrong 
done  to  Hugh,  and  received  him  kindly  when  he  came 
to  see  her  one  afternoon  shortly  after  her  return.  He 
was  anxious  to  make  reparation. 

u  We  are  bound  together  for  the  rest  of  our  1 
dear,"  he  said.      "  Perhaps  it  was  a  mistake  to  begin 
with — and  certainly  the  secrecy  has  been  a  terrible 
blunder.      Let  us  brave  it  all  out  now  and  be  done 
with  it,  and  start  life  afresh." 

"  Do  you  think  we  can  ever  be  happy  again  to- 
gether ?" 

u  My  dear  little  girl,  I  have  wronged  you — but  I 
will  try  to  make  amends.  I  have  a  certain  position  in 
society — even  if  you  don't  love  me,  your  life  will  be 
brighter  than  it  is  now." 

She  leaned  back  in  one  of  her  indolent  attitudes. 

"  Perhaps.  Not  now.  I  am  afraid  of  my  father. 
He  might  curse  me — and  that  would  be  annoying." 

Hugh  paused,  somewhat  baffled  at  this  new  idea. 

u  They  will  be  merely  words  of  anger,"  he  replied. 
"  It  will  not  be  long  lived." 

But  she  shook  her  head.  It  was  better  to  wait. 
Perhaps  she  might  gradually  influence  him — and  then 

80 


Idols 

all  would  be  smooth  sailing.  Hugh  saw  an  element 
of  reason  in  her  proposal,  and  for  a  time  returned  to 
his  briefs.  For  his  own  sake,  he  was  not  loth  to  post- 
pone the  announcement.  The  debt  to  Israel  weighed 
heavily  upon  his  conscience.  But  as  long  as  his  mar- 
riage remained  a  secret,  and  as  long  as  his  uncle  lived, 
he  could  spare  himself  the  galling  reproach  of  trickery. 
Meanwhile  his  practice  was  showing  signs  of  improve- 
ment. A  brilliant  case  might  land  him  at  a  bound 
into  affluence,  and  then  he  could  raise  the  money,  cry 
quits  with  the  urbane  and  gentle  mannered  Shylock  on 
the  score  of  his  ducats,  and  brave  his  reproaches  on  the 
score  of  his  daughter.  Thus  doth  hope  spring  eternal 
in  the  human  breast. 

But  unforeseen  action  on  the  part  of  old  Anna  Cas- 
saba  suddenly  hastened  events.  She  let  her  house  in 
Brighton  for  an  indefinite  period,  and  announced  her 
return  to  Smyrna.  A  lawsuit  had  arisen  over  some 
property  which  Minna's  Syrian  mother  had  bequeathed 
to  the  old  nurse,  and  which  formed  the  chief  source 
of  her  comfortable  income.  Anna  was  summoned  to 
look  after  her  interests.  The  nostalgia  of  her  native 
East,  which  she  had  not  visited  for  over  twenty  years, 
grew  strong  upon  her.  She  could  not  tell  how  long 
she  might  be  absent  from  England. 

Minna   contemplated   her    departure   with    sinking 
heart.      Anna  was  the  saving  spar  to  which  she  clung. 
Sheltering  her,  temporarily,  in  her  own  dressing-room 
6  81 


Idols 

at  The  Limli-n^  Minna  wept  in  her  arms  and  implored 
a  speedy  return.  The  old  nurse  cried,  too,  and  spoke 
of  death,  as  old  folks  will,  and  comforted  her  in  such 
wise  that  at  last  the  girl  grew  desperate  in  her  antici- 
pated desolation.  The  result  was  a  sudden  determina- 
tion that  Hugh  should  speak. 

4t  I  have  come  to  the  end  of  my  tether,"  sh< 
to  him.      "  Anything  would  be  better  than  this.      I'll 
get  papa  to  ask  you  to  dinner.      He  likes  you,  and 
has  been  enquiring  why  you  come  so  seldom  now." 

In  the  course  of  a  day  or  two  he  received  and  ac- 
cepted an  invitation  for  the  following  Monday.      He 
felt   happier.      The   die   was   cast.       If  Hart    called 
him  a  scamp  for  thus  tricking  him  out  of  five  thou- 
sand pounds,  he  would  bear  it  as  an  atoning  humilia- 
tion  for  Minna's  sake.      He  prepared  to  go  through 
ideal  with  an  air  of  disdain.      But  in  his  category 
orn  he  himself  was  included. 


CHAPTER  VII 

"  HE  saved  Gerard's  life?  What  nonsense !  If  he 
had,  I  should  have  heard  about  it." 

Irene  spoke  warmly.  The  person  she  addressed 
was  Harroway,  an  elderly  solicitor,  an  intimate  friend 
of  Hugh  and  the  Merriams.  His  wife  Selina,  who 
had  brought  him  to  pay  an  afternoon  call  on  Irene, 
watched  with  amused  serenity  the  discomfiture  on  his 
broad  and  benevolent  face. 

u  It  isn't  nonsense,"  he  protested.  u  I'm  not  in  the 
habit  of  talking  nonsense,  I  assure  you.  Am  I,  Selina  ? ' ' 

"  A  wife's  testimony  isn't  evidence,"  replied  Mrs. 
Harroway. 

( '  But  what  do  you  mean  ? ' '  asked  Irene,  growing 
serious. 

u  Literally  what  I  said.      Have  you  never  heard?  " 

uNo." 

( (  It  was  in  Switzerland,  years  ago.  Chevasse,  who 
was  on  the  trip  with  them,  told  me.  The  two  were 
roped  together,  suddenly  fell  and  dangled  over  a  preci- 
pice, Colman  lowest.  The  guide  on  top  couldn't 
hold  them  up.  The  rope  was  slipping.  So  Colman 
whipped  out  his  knife  and  cut  himself  off." 

83 


Idols 

"  And  then?" 

u  Oh,  then  the  guide  hauled  Gerard  up  safe  and 
sound/' 

"  But  Hugh?" 

"  When  they  looked  over  to  identify  the  spot  where 
his  pulp  was  lying,  they  saw  him  half  way  down, 
miraculously  caught  on  a  jag  of  rock.  You  might 
try  the  game  twenty  million  times  without  it  succeed- 
ing. I've  had  the  place  pointed  out  to  me.  And 
there  he  rema  <ed  some  hours  clinging  on  between 
heaven  and  earth." 

Irene  closed  her  eyes  with  a  shiver. 

"  Don't,"  she  said.      "  You  make  me  sick." 

"  Funny  that  Gerard  never  told  you  of  it,  for  a 
clearer  case  of  saving  life  at  the  obvious  sacrifice  of 
one's  own,  I  have  never  heard  of." 

Irene's  hand  trembled  a  little  as  she  poured  out  the 
tea.  Mrs.  Harroway,  unobserved,  shook  her  head 
reproachfully  at  her  husband,  who,  interpreting  her 
action  rightly,  plunged  into  irrelevant  observations. 
But  at  that  moment  Gerard  entered  the  room.  Irene 
turned  to  him  at  once  impulsively. 

"  Oh,  Gerard,  Mr.  Harroway  has  been  telling  me 
a  horrible  story  of  Hugh  saving  your  life  in  Switzer- 
land. Is  it  true?  " 

A  shade  of  annoyance  passed  over  his  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied.  "  I  remember  his  doing  some- 
thing of  the  kind." 

84 


Idols 

u  Oh,  do  let  us  talk  of  something  cheerful,"  said 
Mrs.  Harroway;  and  she  led  the  conversation  to 
ordinary  topics  until  the  end  of  the  visit. 

When  the  Harroways  had  gone,  Irene  sat  on  the 
arm  of  Gerard's  chair. 

u  Why  did  you  never  tell  me?  " 

He  grew  red,  fidgeted  awhile  with  his  hands.  At 
last,  looking  up,  and  seeing  her  luminous  eyes  fixed 
upon  him,  he  said,  gravely : 

u  There  are  certain  things  that  a  man  keeps  in  his 
own  heart." 

The  solemnity  of  the  saying  somewhat  awed  her. 

' (  And  Hugh  never  spoke  either. ' ' 

u  Of  course  not,"  said  Gerard. 

u  What  an  unpayable  debt  we  owe  him." 

"  We'll  pay  it  all  right  when  the  time  comes." 

u  What  little  things  women  are  when  compared 
with  men,"  said  Irene.  u  We  could  never  have  kept 
a  fact  like  that  locked  up  in  our  souls." 

Gerard  accepted  the  tribute  with  his  usual  reserve. 
As  his  wife  knew,  he  was  not  a  man  to  waste  words 
over  sentiment.  She  uttered  what  she  felt  were  his 
thoughts. 

"  I  didn't  understand  your  not  telling  me.  But 
now  I  do.  Those  things,  when  unspoken  of,  knit 
two  men  more  firmly  together." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then  changing  her 
tone  and  grasping  Gerard's  arm: 

85 


Idok 

"  We  won't  speak  of  it  again,  either/'  she  said. 
((  It  is  horrible  to  think  of.  And  what  should  I  have 
done  without  you?  " 

The  servant  entering  to  remove  the  tea  things  was 
a  signal  for  Irene  to  dress  for  dinner.  She  left  the 
room,  and  then  Gerard  rose,  and,  walking  to  the  win- 
dow, took  out  his  pocket  handkerchief  and  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  forehead. 

The  result  of  her  knowledge  of  this  fact  in  the  lives 
of  Hugh  and  Gerard  was  an  added  tenderness  of  grati- 
tude in  her  feelings  towards  the  former.  During  the 
past  few  months  he  had  been  slipping  somewhat  apart 
from  her.  He  had  lost  his  old  buoyancy  of  manner, 
and  it  was  easy  for  her  feminine  intuition  to  perceive 
that  the  change  had  some  radical  cause.  Now  she 
blamed  herself  for  not  having  taken  the  initiative, 
and  offered  him  more  openly  the  aid  of  her  friendship. 
The  chance  of  doing  so  occurred  on  the  following 
Sunday,  when,  in  response  to  an  urgent  little  note, 
Hugh  came  to  lunch.  Gerard  was  absent.  Business 
had  summoned  him  to  Edinburgh,  where  he  was  likely 
to  remain  some  time.  The  two  sat  down  to  table 
alone  together,  and,  while  the  servant  was  in  the 
room,  talked  of  divers  matters :  the  waif  who  had 
been  admitted  into  St.  {Catherine's  school,  the  Institu- 
tion which  was  flourishing,  and  extending  its  sphere 
of  benevolence.  At  last  she  touched  upon  literary 
matters. 

86 


Idols 

"  When  are  we  to  see  a  new  volume?  " 

He  lifted  his  shoulders  slightly,  and  fingered  the  stem 
of  his  old  German  wine  glass. 

"  When  I  have  regained  my  lost  youth/'  he  said, 
ironically.  u  One  must  have  enthusiasm  even  for 
that  kind  of  rubbish.  Don't  look  so  concerned,"  he 
added,  with  a  laugh;  "  I'm  not  hypochondriac  yet. 
My  view  of  life  is  only  growing  a  little  more  material- 
istic, that  is  all.  I  share  Peter  Bell's  conception  of 
the  primrose." 

He  quoted  the  lines  jestingly,  and,  the  meal  being 
aver,  drew  out  his  cigarette  case  and  began  to  smoke. 

u  You  are  talking  for  the  sake  of  talking,"  said 
[rene.  u  I  wish  you  wouldn't.  Hugh,"  she  con- 
tinued, with  a  certain  shy  softness  that  had  its  charm, 
;(  don't  be  vexed  with  me.  Tell  me  what  is  changing 
pou.  You  know  that  I  owe  to  you  the  existence  of 
ill  that  is  dearest  to  me  in  the  world,  and  I  long  so 
:o  pay  you  back  a  little  in  the  help  that  friendship  can 


"You  can't  do  it  now,  Renie,"  he  said,  abruptly. 
c  Afterwards  you  may.  That  is,  if  you  and  Gerard 
lon't  think  me  a  pitiful  scamp.  You  won't  have  long 
:o  wait." 

The  sudden  realisation  that  this  was  perhaps  the 
ast  of  the  brotherly  meals  he  should  have  with  her, 
dismayed  him.  In  a  few  days  he  would  be  either  the 
acknowledged  betrothed  or  the  acknowledged  husband 

87 


Idols 

of  another  woman — her  bitterest  enemy.  The  old 
dear  order  had  changed.  Hitherto  he  had  held  a 
unique  and  delicate  position  in  her  thoughts,  that  of 
the  loyal  friend  and  honourable  lover.  Henceforward 
he  would  be  another  woman's  husband,  which  would 
make  an  immeasurable  difference.  He  looked  round 
the  familiar  walls  of  the  cosy  dining-room,  and  then 
with  unconscious  wistfulness  upon  her  face  in  profile. 
To  him  there  was  none  more  beautiful  in  all  the  world. 
The  broad  forehead;  the  delicate,  sensitive  nose ;  the 
strong,  pointed  chin;  the  mobile,  faintly  coloured  lips; 
the  eyes  capable  of  great  passion,  yet  showing  habit- 
ually a  grave  and  luminous  kindness;  the  noble  up 
sweep  of  her  hair  from  the  temple  contours,  giving  an 
impression  of  queenliness;  the  soft,  fair  gold  of  her 
hair  itself,  crowning  her  head  too  lightly  to  be  a  crown 
ind  too  individually  to  be  a  halo;  the  head  poised  with 
tender  dignity  upon  a  broad,  full  throat — all  the 
dieting  features  combined  harmoniously  together  to 
form  in  a  lover's  eyes  a  face  telling  of  a  great  and 
tender  womanhood.  And  the  picture  of  that  other 
rose  before  him,  beautiful,  too,  in  its  sensuous  duski- 
ness, yet  stamped  forever  with  his  own  condemnation 
of  commonness.  His  glance  grew  troubled  as  it  met 
Irene  s. 

44  There  is  nothing  in  the  wide  world  that  we  would 
not  do  for  you,  Hugh,"  she  said. 

44  Doing    is    one    thing/'    he     replied.      "Letting 
.    88 


Idols 

things  go  on  is  another.  I'm  afraid  you'll  come  to 
look  upon  me  as  a  blackguard,  and  that  must  make 
some  difference." 

"  Nothing  will  make  any  difference  in  our  love  for 
you.  So  long  as  Gerard  and  I  sit  opposite  here,  there 
will  be  your  place  always  between  us.  Besides,  the 
idea  of  your  being  a  blackguard  is  simply  silly!  " 

He  laughed  in  spite  of  his  depression.  Her  tone 
was  emphatic. 

"  I  believe  you'd  champion  me  through  a  grand 
jury  list  of  iniquities.  I  wish  you  could  have  split 
yourself  into  two  in  the  years  past,  Renie.  You 
would  have  kept  me  out  of  mischief." 

It  was  Irene's  turn  to  look  troubled. 

"  Do  you  know,  Hugh,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice, 
"  that  lately  I  have  feared  I  may  have  spoiled  youl 
life." 

u  Ah,  my  dear  child,"  he  cried,  regaining  in  a  flash 
all  his  old  vehemence,  "it  is  not  the  missing  of  the 
angel's  touch  that  spoils  a  man's  life.  He  is  singu- 
larly fortunate  to  come  within  the  beat  of  her  wings." 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  blushing  very  prettily. 
"  That  is  like  your  old,  extravagant  self." 

For  a  long  time  afterwards  the  colour  remained  in 
her  face.  Thousands  of  women  have  been  called 
angels,  and  have  thought  little  of  it.  But  not  one  has 
felt  otherwise  than  tremulously  abashed  when  the 
similitude  has  come  from  a  man's  worshipping  sincerity. 

89 


Idols 

But  that  was  the  end  of  the  conversation.  Irene  had 
said  her  say,  and  no  more  was  to  be  gained  by  dwell- 
ing on  the  topic. 

When  he  had  gone,  she  settled  down  to  her  corre- 
spondence. But  for  a  long  while  she  sat  biting  the 
end  of  her  quill  pen. 

I  wonder  who  she  can  be,"  she  said,  musingly. 
Of  course  it  was  a  woman.  She  passed  in  review 
all  their  common  acquaintance;  then  shook  her  head 
with  a  smile.  This  disturbing  clement  in  Hugh's  life 
outside  the  circle.  The  image  of  Minna  Hart 
never  presented  itself  before  her  thoughts.  For  Irene 
had  large  ideas,  and  pictured  the  woman  as  one  of 
commanding  intelligence  and  brilliant  personality. 
How  else  to  account  for  the  folly  of  so  vigorou 
manhood  as  Hugh's?  A  noble  man,  a  noble  choi 
Foolish — but  sublimely  so.  She  knew  little  of  the 
ways  of  men,  judged  them  according  to  her  own  ideals. 
For  her  life  had  been  spent  singularly  apart  from  men. 
Her  mother,  a  delicate  woman,  unable  to  bear  the 
Indian  climate,  had  brought  her  up  in  quiet  seclusion. 
She  had  been  a  choice  spirit,  a  weaver  of  dreams,  one 
whose  presence  is  felt  like  the  moonlight  through 
Gothic  tracery,  a  writer  of  flower-like  fairy  tales  for 
children,  an  ethereal  being  whom  it  was  Irene's  im- 
passioned mission  to  shelter  from  the  rough  winds. 
Her  father,  once  a  soldier  with  a  V.  C.  in  the  Mutiny, 
afterwards  a  commissioner  of  a  great  Indian  province, 

90 


Idols 

had  appeared  to  her  in  brief  spells  of  leave,  invested 
with  a  halo  of  glory.  On  her  mother's  death,  she  had 
gone  out  heartbroken  to  join  him,  but  only  to  learn, 
on  arrival  at  Bombay,  that  she  was  fatherless.  And 
then,  for  the  first  time,  men,  Gerard  and  Hugh,  had 
come  into  her  life — and  she  saw  them  as  gods  walk- 
ing. The  years  had  mellowed  into  a  strong,  homo- 
geneous character  her  inherited  qualities — the  mother's 
delicate  womanliness,  the  father's  daring  and  power 
of  leadership — and  busy  contact  with  the  world  had 
developed  the  acuteness  of  her  judgment ;  but  the  ideals 
of  the  girl  survived,  unprofaned  by  vulgar  touch. 
The  two  men  to  whom  she  had  given  her  love  and 
friendship  still  remained  as  gods,  above  the  baser  pas- 
sions and  meaner  follies  of  mankind. 

Suddenly  a  face  flashed  before  her,  as  that,  possibly, 
of  the  mysterious  woman  who  was  involved  in  Hugh's 
life.  She  had  never  seen  it  in  the  flesh ;  only  a  photo- 
graph of  it  some  years  ago,  in  Hugh's  rooms,  when 
she  was  lunching  there  with  Gerard.  She  had  taken 
a  book  from  the  shelves  and  the  portrait  had  fallen  out. 
It  represented  a  woman,  tall,  resplendent,  haughty, 
cruelly  beautiful.  The  eyes,  even  in  the  photograph, 
glittered  coldly  and  dangerously.  Irene  had  uttered  a 
little  cry  of  surprise  and  admiration.  Hugh  had  taken 
it  from  her  hands. 

"  A  great  beauty,"  she  had  remarked. 

u  Yes.      La  Belle  Dame  sans  merci." 


Idols 

"  Her  eyes  arc  cruel." 

'*  They  are  ophidian.  I  don't  like  you  to  look  at 
them,"  he  had  replied,  throwing  the  photograph  into  a 
drawer.  And  then  he  had  said,  with  a  smile:  "  Thej 
belong  to  *  old  unhappy  far-off  things,  and  battles  long 
ago.'" 

Did  they?  That  was  the  question  she  now  put 
to  herself,  and  vainly  tried  to  answer.  It  is  per- 
mitted even  to  the  most  confiding  of  women  to  en- 
tertain occasional  doubts  as  to  the  ingenuousness  of 
bachelor  friends. 

At  last  she  drew  a  sheet  of  note-paper  from  the 
stationery  case  in  front  of  her  and  inscribed  the  date. 
But  she  paused,  and  gazed  absently  at  the  wall,  her 
mind  full  of  Hugh's  dilemma.  She  felt  an  unac- 
countable dislike  for  the  woman  with  the  ophidian 
eyes.  Presently  she  broke  into  a  little  laugh. 

"  I  do  believe  I  am  jealous!     I  must  tell  Gerard." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

AN  anxious  face  met  Hugh  as  he  was  shown  into 
the  drawing-room.  Minna  had  grown  into  a  woman 
since  her  illness,  and  had  hardened  considerably  during 
the  process.  Instead  of  the  lazy  uplifting  of  silky 
lashes,  veiling  swimming  eyes,  with  which  she  had 
been  wont  to  greet  him,  she  met  him  with  a  glance  as 
keen  as  his  own.  The  racial  spirit  of  bargain  revealed 
itself  in  her  expression.  Once  more  he  was  struck 
by  the  latent  power  of  strength  and  hardness.  She 
wore  a  dark  red  dinner  dress  and  heavy  gold  bracelets, 
and  a  diamond  star  shone  in  the  dark  clusters  of  her 
hair. 

u  I  am  glad  you  have  come  early,"  she  said,  re- 
ceiving his  kiss  mechanically.  u  I  wanted  to  have  a 
word  with  you  before  papa  comes  down." 

They  walked  slowly  to  the  fireplace  and  stood  turned 
towards  each  other,  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Well?"  he  said. 

u  When  are  you  going  to  tell  papa?  " 

4  (  After  dinner — '  over  the  walnuts  and  the  wine. '  3 

u  Don't.  Wait  until  you  have  said  good-bye  to 
me." 

93 


Idols 

u  How  shall  I  let  you  know  the  result?  You  will 
be  anxious/* 

"  Do  you  mind  coming  to  me  afterwards — the  old 
way?'' 

"Not  at  all.  But  I  shall  have  to  wait  outside 
until  the  house  is  quiet." 

u  There  will  be  a  nice  fire  upstairs  to  warm  you." 

"  And  my  wife's  heart?" 

u  That  depends,"  she  replied,  with  a  curious  smile. 
i4  Shall  you  be  perishing  for  it?  " 

44  We  must  try  to  win  back  to  each  other  again, 
Minna,"  he  said,  stretching  out  his  hand  so  as  to 
touch  lightly  her  check.  "  It  will  not  be  hard,  foi 
circumstances  will  be  more  favourable  than  they  have 
been.  I  am  afraid  I  haven't  played  a  very  noble  part, 
my  dear — and  when  a  man  is  conscious  of  that,  he 
vents  his  spleen  upon  others.  That's  not  very  noble 
either,  but  it's  miserable  human  nature.  Do  you 
understand?  " 

"I  am  glad  you  sec  that  you  have  treated  me 
badly,"  she  said.  4t  At  any  rate  it's  a  hopeful  begin- 
ning." 

The  thought  of  her  failure  to  grasp  his  meaning  was 
dancing  irritatingly  in  his  mind  as  he  stepped  forward 
to  greet  Israel  Hart,  who  at  that  moment  entered  the 
room. 

"  Very  pleased  to  sec  you,  Mr.  Colman.  Sorry 
I'm  late.  Kept  in  the  city.  Cold,  isn't  it'  " 

94 


Idols 

He  rubbed  his  soft  palms  together  and  held  them 
out  to  the  blaze  of  the  fire. 

"  How's  business?  Been  letting  loose  lots  of  lucky 
gaol-birds  lately?  " 

"  Oh,  we  always  believe  firmly  in  our  clients' 
innocence,"  retorted  Hugh  with  a  laugh. 

u  That's  more  than  I  do  in  mine,"  said  the  money- 
lender. 

The  young  man  returned  a  light  answer,  but  curled 
his  moustache,  and  drew  himself  up  with  unconscious 
haughtiness.  The  touch  of  vulgarity  jarred  upon  him. 
When  one  has  to  humble  one's  pride  before  a  man, 
one  is  apt  to  become  supersensitive  of  such  things. 
Unfortunately  for  Hugh,  Israel  evinced  a  more  genial 
and  familiar  mood  than  usual,  and,  during  the  elaborate 
meal  that  followed,  allowed  himself  privileges  of  allu- 
sion that  a  finer  taste  would  have  restrained.  Aware 
of  the  senselessness  of  feeling  chafed  at  what,  on  other 
occasions,  he  would  have  let  pass  almost  unnoticed, 
Hugh  conversed  with  a  great  outward  show  of  good- 
humour.  But  once  or  twice  he  caught  Minna's  eyes 
fixed  on  him  in  a  malicious  smile,  which  irritated  him 
still  further.  The  courses  seemed  infinite.  His  host 
referred  to  each,  now  praising  the  merits  of  his  cook, 
now  estimating  its  money  value.  As  he  grew  more 
genial,  the  more  did  he  throw  off  the  cloak  of  breed- 
ing that  at  times  he  well  assumed,  and  display  the 
inevitable,  impregnating  colour  of  his  mind.  To  the 

95 


Idols 

man  of  artistic  temperament  money  had  no  intrinsic 
value.  It  merely  represented  power  over  the  beauty 
and  charm  of  life.  To  the  Jew  financier,  the  making 
of  it  was  an  absorbing  pursuit.  Its  possession  was  an 
end  in  itself.  He  had  his  being  in  an  atmosphere  of 
money;  could  scarcely  conceive  different  environment 
— just  as  the  average  gamekeeper  cannot  realise  a  life 
in  which  rabbits  and  partridges  play  no  part.  As  the 
bookmaker  talks  inevitable  turf,  so  Israel  talked  in- 
evitable money. 

u  Has  my  daughter  ever  shown  you  those  bracelets, 
Mr.  Colman?  They're  almost  historical.  Been  in 
a  great  nobleman's  family  for  centuries.  Take  one 
off  and  show  it  to  Mr.  Colman.  The  present  count- 
ess came  to  grief  horse-racing — applied  to  me  for 
money.  Those  were  part  of  the  security.  The 
same  lady  tried  to  do  me  with  some  paste  diamon 
but  I  was  down  too  sharp.  Solid  things,  aren't 
they?" 

4<  I   come   in    for  a   lot   of  the   plunder,  don't    I, 
papa?  "  said  Minna,  gaily. 

Hugh  winced.  Hitherto  she  had  always  expressed 
the  profoundest  distaste  for  her  father's  professi 
Was  this  speech  genuine,  was  it  pure  malice,  or  was 
its  intention  that  of  keeping  a  stern  parent  in  good- 
humour?  To  save  the  situation  he  handed  it  back  to 
Minna  with  a  little  courtly  bow. 

44  It   has  never  adorned   a   fairer  arm,"    he    said. 
96 


idols 

Minna's  quicker  ear  caught  an  ironical  note,  and  she 
bit  her  lip.  But  Israel  was  delighted. 

"  I  like  to  hear  a  young  man  pay  a  pretty  compli- 
ment," he  said,  rolling  back  in  his  chair.  "  The  art 
is  dying  out." 

When  Minna  rose,  Hugh  held  the  door  open  for 
her.  On  passing  him  she  whispered : 

"  You  are  making  a  wonderful  impression;  keep 
it  up." 

He  bowed,  closed  the  door  upon  her  and  came  round 
to  the  fire,  hating  the  part  so  bluntly  defined  by  his 
wife.  To  have  to  cajole  this  somewhat  vulgar  old 
Jew  of  shady  profession,  his  actual  father-in-law  !  It 
was  trailing  his  pride  in  the  mud.  But  he  had  been 
doing  so  ever  since  the  disastrous  day  of  his  marriage. 
A  little  extra  soiling,  he  reflected  cynically,  would 
make  but  faintly  appreciable  difference. 

The  grave  butler  entered  with  coffee  and  cigars. 
Hugh  declined  the  latter. 

"  Better  have  one,"  said  Israel,  carefully  selecting. 
"  Don't  get  this  sort  of  thing  every  day.  I  give  seven 
pound  ten  a  hundred  for  them. ' ' 

"I  am  a  cigarette  smoker,"  said  Hugh,  "but 
still " 

He  accepted  a  cigar  courteously.      For  he   knew 

that  a  man  is  apt  to  be  ruffled  when  you  refuse  an 

eighteen-penny  havana,  and  he  had  good  reason's  for 

not  wishing  to  ruffle  his  host.      Presently  they  went 

7  97 


Idols 

upstairs.      Minna  moved  to  the  piano.      Usual 
played    with    taste    and    correctness.      To-night    she 
strummed  abominably. 

44  We  arc  not  quite  in  the  mood  for  Chopin,  '*  said 
Hugh,  who  was  turning  over  her  leaves.  She  stopped 
dead. 

"  No.  This  is  more  suitable  to  one's  irritation/' 
and  she  plunged  into  Stephen  Heller's  Tarantella. 
The  old  man,  dozing  in  his  chair,  did  not  notice  the 
change. 

<(  Don't  give  it  away  at  once,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice,  as  she  played.  "  Begin  with  a  formal  demand 
in  marriage  and  see  how  he  takef*k." 

I  shall  do  whatever  seems  to  me  judicious,"   ho 
answered,  curtly. 

<c  Remember  I  am  an  interested  party,"  she  re- 
torted. **  There  is  such  a  thing  as  money  to  be  con- 
sidered, however  much  you  may  despise  it." 

"  You  may  trust  to  my  not  forgetting,"  he  replied. 

The  evening  was  over  at  last.  He  bade  Minna 
good-bye. 

11  I  should  like  to  say  a  few  words  to  you,  Mr. 
Hart,  before  I  go,"  he  remarked  on  his  way  down- 
stairs. His  host,  cordiality  itself,  showed  him  into 
his  study,  poked  the  fire  and  lighted  a  cigar. 

"  Business?" 

"  Yes." 

<(  About  the  loan!*      I  was  wanting  to  discuss  it 
9* 


Idols 

Best  now,  when  we're  comfortable.  Wait  a  moment 
— allow  me.  What  is  the  chance  of  your  being  left 
a  small  legacy?  " 

"  None  whatever,  I  fear,"  replied  Hugh. 

"It  is  devilish  hard  lines  on  me,  Colman,  you 
know.  When  I  advanced  you  that  money,  I  thought 
your  inheritance  was  as  safe  as  a  mortgage.  You  are 
aware  it  is  not  my  usual  way  of  doing  business.  This 
is  not  an  actual  reversion;  it's  only  a  convenient  term. 
But  I  liked  you,  and  somehow  it's  pleasant  now  and 
then  to  do  a  friend  a  good  turn. ' ' 

"  I  am  deeply  aware  of  all  that,"  said  Hugh. 

"  And,  as  I  mentioned,  I  considered  the  security 
safe." 

"  So  did  I.      You  can  scarcely  blame  me." 

"  I  believe  you,"  said  the  old  man,  cordially. 
* (  You  meant  to  play  square,  I  know.  Otherwise  you 
wouldn't  be  here,  would  you?  But,  all  the  same,  if 
your  uncle  were  to  die  to-morrow,  I  should  be  done 
out  of  £5,000.  I  don't  pretend  to  say  that  £5,000 
would  break  me.  Thank  God  I  can  run  to  six  figures 
with  something  bigger  than  a  i  i  '  in  front  any  day, 
when  all  is  called  in.  But  money  is  money.  Now,  as 
a  gentleman,  would  you  feel  morally  justified  in  abiding 
by  your  legal  rights?  " 

"No,"  said  Hugh,  "I  wouldn't.  But  circum- 
stances  ' ' 

"I  know,"  interrupted  the  money-lender,  with 
99 


Idols 

upraised   hand.      c<  They   aren't  quite  yet  what   they 
ought   to  be.      But  you  are  going  to  be  a  succ 
man.      They  will  alter.      Now  I  have  a  friendly  pro- 
posal to  make  to  you." 

"  And  I  am  coming  with  one  to  you,  Mr.  Hart," 
said  Hugh,  with  a  smile.  4t  And  I  think  you  had 
better  hear  mine  first.  You  consider  me  an  honest 
man 

11  I  do." 

"  And  you  don't  disapprove  of  me  personally?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  I'm  very  pleased  and  proud  to 
call  you  a  friend  of  mine.  You  wouldn't  have  had 
my  money  otherwise." 

14  Then,  Mr.  Hart,  you  make  easier  what  I  have 
to  say.  It  concerns  your  daughter,  Miss  Hart." 

••  W!  Minna — my  daughter?"    said  the  old 

man,  with  a  sharp  change  of  tone. 

• '  I    have  the  honour  to  ask  you  for  her  hand  in 
marriage." 
You'  " 

An  indescribable  change  came  over  the  old  man's 
face.  Instantly  it  lost  the  sleek  and  coarse  materialism 
of  the  money-getter,  the  half-sensual  content  of  the 
easy-going  man  who  has  well  dined,  the  patronising 
geniality  of  the  prosperous  host.  A  fire  glowed  in  his 
eyes.  His  Jewish  features  seemed  to  grow  more 
prominent.  The  grey  beard  framed  a  strange,  patri- 
archal dignity.  The  Jew,  proud  and  unconquered 

100 


Idols 

through  centuries  of  oppression,  overwhelming  all 
other  accidents  of  life  in  the  eternal  arrogance  of  race, 
was  regarding,  with  angry  and  incredulous  scorn,  the 
Gentile,  the  hybrid  child  of  yesterday. 

1  *  You !  "  he  repeated,  almost  insultingly. 

The  young  man's  quick  blood  flamed  in  his  cheeks. 
He  started  to  his  feet. 

"  Yes,  I.  Why  shouldn't  I?  "  he  cried  in  a  loud 
voice. 

At  that  moment  the  door  opened,  and  the  butler 
entered,  bearing  a  tray  with  spirit-case  and  glasses. 
Hugh  turned  quickly,  and  bent  towards  the  fire  with 
a  spill,  to  light  a  cigarette.  The  butler  set  his  tray- 
load  on  the  great  library  table,  secured  the  windows 
of  the  room  and  drew  the  curtains,  which  had  remained 
looped  back. 

"  You  need  not  sit  up,  Samuels,"  said  Israel.  "  I 
will  let  Mr.  Colman  out  and  lock  up." 

With  discreet  thanks  the  butler  withdrew.  Hugh 
threw  his  cigarette  into  the  grate,  put  his  hands  into 
his  pockets  and  faced  his  host  once  more. 

u  I  consider  my  proposal  is  quite  justifiable,  Mr. 
Hart." 

' '  Are  you  aware  what  you  are  asking  ? ' ' 

( '  Yes.  I  am  a  poor  man.  She1  is  rich.  I  owe 
you  money.  But  still " 

u  Money?  What  has  money  to  do  with  it?  " 
interrupted  the  Jew,  grandly.  u  If  you  had  the 


Idols 

rent-roll  of  the  Grosvenors  it  would  make  no  differ- 
ence 

44  If  it's  a  question  of  religion — I  always  thought 
your  views  were  latitudinarian.' ' 

I    suppose   Minna   knows  of  this?"  said  Israel, 
apparently  disregarding  the  remark. 

44  Certainly." 

"  Mr.  Colman,  I  have  no  wish  to  wound  your 
feelings.  But  I  would  sooner  have  my  daughter  dead 
at  my  feet  than  see  her  married  to  a  Christian." 

44  Then  it  is  useless  to  ask  for  your  consent'  " 

44  Quite  useless 

44  In  that  case  I  fear  we  shall  have  to  do  without 
it.  I  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  cause  you  pain — but 
the  marriage  will  take  pla 

Israel  rose  from  his  chair  and  poured  some  whiskey 
into  the  glasses,  and  made  a  courteous  motion  with  his 
hand  towards  the  siphon  of  soda-water. 

"  We  stand  on  opposite  sides  of  a  great  gulf.  I 
am  a  Jew.  You  arc  a  Gentile.  We  need  not  discuss 
the  question.  I  can't  restrain  my  daughter  from 
carrying  out  her  wishes.  But  I  can  solemnly  curse 
her  after  the  manner  of  my  people,  and  cut  her  adrift 
from  me  for  ever.  I  shall  warn  her.  The  wrath  of 
the  Almighty  will  be  on  her  head.  She  will  also  be 
disinherited." 

44  That  will  ease  my  mind  of  a  great  burden,"  said 
Hugh. 

102 


Idols 

"  To  show  you  that  it  is  no  animosity  towards  you 
personally  that  influences  me,"  continued  Israel,  with 
great  dignity,  inconceivable  of  the  man  of  an  hour 
before,  ( {  I  will  let  you  see  a  copy  of  my  will  made 
some  time  ago  when  the  thought  of  you  as  a  suitor 
never  crossed  my  mind." 

He  drew  a  bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket  and 
opened  the  great  safe.  From  a  locked  compartment 
he  drew  forth  a  document,  and,  folding  it  so  that  only 
the  particular  paragraph  should  be  visible,  he  showed 
it  to  Hugh.  Nothing  could  be  more  explicit.  In  the 
event  of  Minna  marrying  a  Gentile  all  the  estate  would 
pass  from  her  and  be  devoted  to  specified  Jewish 
charities. 

1  (  I  hope  Minna  will  be  able  to  persuade  you  to  a 
more  favourable  view  of  the  case,"  said  Hugh. 

u  My  daughter  can  do  many  things,  but  not  that. 
She  despises  her  people,  I  know.  But  she  shall  marry 
among  them  or  be  cut  off  from  our  congregation  for 
ever." 

"  There  seems  nothing  more  to  be  said,  Mr.  Hart," 
said  Hugh. 

"  You  quite  realise  that  when  my  daughter  leaves 
this  house,  the  clothes  that  cover  her  will  be  her  sole 
possession?  " 

"  I  have  told  you — I  am  immensely  relieved.  As 
to  our  business  relations " 

"  They  can  be  discussed  on  a  future  occasion." 
103 


Idols 

Proud  as  he  was  of  his  birth  and  breeding,  Hugh 
could  not  but  be  abashed  before  this  pride  of  race  that 
transformed  the  vulgar  usurer  into  a  gentleman  of  fine 
feeling.  Israel's  words  and  attitude  had  not  conveyed 
the  slightest  reproach  on  the  score  of  fortune-hunting. 
He  had  cast  neither  his  poverty  nor  his  debt  in  his 
teeth.  A  great  feeling  of  respect  for  the  old  man  rose 
in  his  heart. 

"  Believe  me/'  he  said  after  a  turn  across  the 
room;  "  if  fate  would  allow  it,  I  would  give  up  the 
idea  for  your  sake." 

44  We  all  make  our  destiny,"  replied  the  old  man, 
bitterly.  44  I  have  made  mine." 

A  few  moments  later  Hugh  took  his  leave.  Israel 
accompanied  him  to  the  front  door,  shook  hands  with 
him,  and,  turning  out  the  light  in  the  hall,  went  back 
to  his  study.  Then  he  remembered  that  he  had  for- 
gotten to  secure  the  door. 

44  I  will  do  it  afterwards,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  picked  up  the  will,  glanced  through  it  and  re- 
placed it  in  the  safe.  For  half  an  hour  he  sat  in 
deep  thought;  then  rose,  went  upstairs  and  returned, 
bringing  with  him  a  small  padlocked  ledger.  He  sat 
down  in  his  writing-chair  by  the  table,  but  remained 
in  deep  thought,  tapping  the  unopened  book  with  his 
fingers. 

'  My  own  daughter — Sara's  child — married   to    a 
Christian." 

104 


Idols 

Long  he  sat  in  an  awful  loneliness,  his  eyes  dull 
and  weary,  looking  at  the  spectres  of  the  past.  At 
length  he  took  from  a  drawer  at  his  side  a  double  sheet 
of  blue  foolscap,  and  dipped  a  pen  very  slowly  in  the 
ink. 

* (  7,  Israel  Hart,  will  and  bequeath ' ' 

u  No,"  he  said.  u  Not  now — I  must  think  it  out 
again.  Ask  God  for  guidance." 

He  rose,  put  the  paper  in  the  fire,  and  sank  into 
the  great  armchair  close  by.  And  there  he  sat,  think- 
ing, thinking.  At  last  his  eyelids  closed  and  he  slept. 

Hugh  went  out  into  a  night  of  utter  blackness  and 
icy  sleet.  Great  splashes  of  half-melted  snow  fell 
against  his  face  and  oozed  down  in  liquid.  He  made 
his  way  along  the  drive  and  out  of  the  front  gate. 
Dimly  through  the  darkness  the  sound  reached  him  of 
the  Sunnington  clock  striking  the  half  hour.  Half- 
past  efeven.  He  would  wait  till  twelve  before  keep- 
ing his  appointment  with  Minna.  A  mile  up  the 
Heath  Road  and  a  mile  back  would  fill  up  the  time. 
He  walked  on  through  the  darkness,  splashing  through 
the  mud  and  drawing  his  head  down  into  the  collar  of 
his  ulster  so  as  to  keep  the  frozen  rain  from  his  neck. 
Not  a  soul  was  visible.  On  his  return  he  saw  a  bull's- 
eye  lantern  flash  within  the  grounds  of  a  house.  It 
was  a  policeman  examining  the  fastenings.  Hugh 
hurried  on,  turned  down  the  lane  that  led  from  the 

10$ 


Id< 

Heath   Road  to  the  wood  and  waste  lands  behind  The 
Lindens.      At  last  he  came  to  the  brick  wall  enclosing 
the  property.      A  key  in  his  possession  opened  a  small 
side  door  leading  into  a  garden  which  Minna's  capric 
had  made  so  exclusively  her  own,  that  entrance  to 
was  not  practicable  from  any  portion  of  the  grounds. 
On   the   right  were  green-houses,  closing   off  egress 
from  the  back-while,   following  the  line  of  the  side 
of  the  house,  a  thick  box  hedge  ran  to  meet  the  froi 
wall,  and  thus  separated  the  little  pleasance  from  the 
front  lawn,  through  which  curved  the  carriage  drive. 

The  house  was  in  total  darkness,  scarcely  discern- 
ible against  the  pitch-black  sky.  Hugh  crossed  the 
turf,  walking  warily  so  as  to  avoid  the  shrubs  with 
which  it  was  thickly  planted,  ever  and  anon  thrusting 
his  hand  through  the  icy,  dripping  foliage. 

u  Thank  Heaven  this  is  the  last  time,"  he  mut- 
tered to  himself. 

He  came  to  the  house,  to  whose  walls  stretched  the 
carpet  of  turf.  A  low  verandah,  reached  by  a  flight 
of  steps,  and  communicating  with  the  interior  by 
means  of  French  windows,  now  closely  barred,  ex- 
tended not  quite  the  breadth  of  the  building.  Mask- 
ing its  end  rose  a  tall  clipped  yew.  Behind  this  he 
crept,  and  a  low  window,  whose  sash  he  lifted,  thanks 
to  Minna's  previous  unbarring,  admitted  him  into  the 
house.  It  was  a  tiny  chamber,  used  by  Minna  as  a 
dark-room  during  an  intermittent  photographic  fever. 

1 06 


g 

; 


Idols 

Outside  this  was  a  heavily  carpeted  staircase,  up  which 
Hugh  stole  noiselessly. 

The  handle  turned  smoothly  beneath  his  grasp,  and 
he  found  himself  at  last  in  his  wife's  presence.  The 
large  room  was  lit  only  by  the  leaping  flames  of  the 
fire,  that  threw  quick  flashes  on  the  richly  curtained 
bed  and  the  luxurious  appointments  of  a  wealthy 
woman's  bedchamber.  In  a  long  chair  before  the  fire, 
the  tips  of  fur-lined  slippers  thrust  on  bare  feet,  rest- 
ing on  the  fender,  lay  Minna.  She  wore  2  rich  dress- 
ing-gown, with  lace  at  throat  and  wrists.  Her  dark 
hair  clustered  about  her  shoulders.  A  delicate  odour 
of  toilette-washes  and  powder  hung  on  the  warmth  of 
the  room.  Hugh  stopped  for  a  moment  on  the  thresh- 
old, with  a  little  catch  at  his  breath.  The  subtle 
charm  of  the  woman's  shrine  stole  gratefully  over 
him.  After  all,  it  was  sweet  to  have  the  right  of  such 
intimacy.  He  took  ofF  his  dripping  ulster  and  laid  it 
aside  before  coming  forward.  Then  he  stooped  and 
kissed  her. 

*  *  Oh !  how  wet  you  are ! ' '  she  cried,  with  a  little 
grimace,  rubbing  her  cheek  with  her  handkerchief. 
"  Do  come  and  dry  yourself.  You  will  find  your 
slippers  in  the  secret  drawer,  as  usual." 

She  handed  him  a  key  which  she  took  from  her 
dressing-gown  pocket,  and  while  he  was  changing  his 
wet  boots: 

'  '  Well  ? ' '  she  said.      <  <  What  news  ? ' ' 
107 


Idols 

<(  Bad.  Your  father  will  not  consent,  because  I  am 
a  Christian.  We  shall  have  to  elope." 

44  Then  you  haven't  told  him  all?  " 

44  No.  I  thought  it  wiser.  There  seemed  no 
necessity.  It  will  be  better  for  us  to  get  married 
again — publicly." 

He  drew  up  an  armchair  by  her  side,  close  to  the  tire, 
and,  leaning  forward,  warmed  himself  appreciatively. 

44  It's  an  infernal  night.  You  don't  know  how 
sweet  and  cosy  it  is  here." 

44  It  was  kind  of  you  to  come,"  she  said,  with  cold 
politeness* 

Her  tone  chilled  the  reviving  glow  of  his  imagina- 
tion, which  already  was  beginning  to  picture  gen 
possibilities  of  their  married  life.  He  remained  silcr 
for  some  time.  When  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  less 
genial  accents. 

14  I  am  afraid,  Minna,  that  in  marrying  me  you 
have  unwittingly  made  a  tremendous  sacrifice." 

44  Not  more  than  most  women,  I  suppose." 

kl  Unfortunately,  yes." 

With  much  tact  and  delicacy  he  put  her  in  posses- 
sion of  all  the  details  of  his  recent  interview.  She 
said  not  a  word  until  he  had  finished,  but  clenched  her 
fingers  on  the  arms  of  her  chair  and  looked  rigidly 
into  the  fire. 

I    had   an  awful  horror  of  this,"   she  said,  in  a 
toneless  voice. 

108 


Idols 

I  u  It  will  make  an  enormous  difference  to  you. 
God  knows  I  realise  it.  But,  after  all,  we  shall  not 
starve." 

She  darted  a  quick,  sidelong  glance  at  him,  then, 
with  a  shudder,  put  her  hands  before  her  face. 

(C  I  knew  it  would  be  woe  and  misery,"  she  said, 
"  whilst  we  were  walking  away  from  that  horrible 
registrar's  office.  Oh,  God!  I  wish  it  had  never 
been!" 

u  It  need  not  be  misery.  It  shan't  be  misery,  if  I 
can  help  it." 

( '  You  ?     You  have  robbed  me  of  my  birthright !  ' ' 
"  Perhaps  your  taunt  is  just,  Minna,"  he  replied, 
a  scornful  generosity  forgetting  that  with  her  had  lain 
considerable  initiative  in  the  matter  of  the  marriage. 
But  it  scarcely  can  mend  our  happiness." 
"  Happiness!  "  she  echoed,  contemptuously.      u  A 
poky  little  house,  and   rechauffe"  dinners,  and  a  cheap 
gown  once  a  year.      The  gingerbread  would  have  been 
wetty  enough  ten  months  ago.      Now  the  gilt  is  off. ' ' 
With  great  patience,    knowing  that    on    him,   the 
nan,  the  stronger,  the  more  rational,  the  less  in  love 
>f  the  two,  rested  the  responsibility  of  the  disaster,  he 
trove  to  reassure  her,  to  paint  their  coming  life  to- 
;ether  in  the  most  cheerful  colours.       Grand  style  of 
iving  he  could  not  offer  her.      But  comfort,  a  certain 
locial   position,    clever  and    bright    society — all    that 
vas  within  his  reach.      He  had  done  her  a  wrong  in 
109 


Idols 

marrying  her,  would  repair  it  by  devoting  the  rest  of 
his  life  to  her  happiness.  He  pleaded  to  a  hardened 
heart.  She  cither  listened  stonily  or  broke  into 
petulant  recriminations.  The  talk  grew  spasmodic, 
interrupted  by  long  gaps  of  silence.  Imperceptibly 
the  night  wore  on.  Once  he  noticed  *that  she  had 
fallen  into  a  weary  doze.  He  watched  for  a  long 
time  her  face,  lit  up  by  the  flickering  flames.  How 
hard  and  common  and  sullen  it  had  grown !  He  read 
in  it  the  history  of  the  last  few  months— -of  her  pre- 
vious life — of  her  soul.  A  revulsion  of  feeling  turned 
his  heart  against  her  and  against  himself.  The  man 
with  ambitions  and  wide  interests  in  the  world  of  ac- 
tion revolted  against  the  slavery  to  such  a  woman. 

There  was  little  use  in  staying  longer.  He  rose 
to  go.  His  movcmcm  startled  her,  and  she  opened 
her  eyes. 

4<  Don't  go  yet.      I   am  not  asleep.      I  have  bcerM 
thinking." 

He  sat  down  again,  watched  her  as  she  looked  into 
the  fire  with  eyes  that  in  the  fantastic  light  seemed 
haggard,  and  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

4t  I    cannot   forfeit    my    money/'    she   said.      l    It 
would  kill  me.      Even  if  I  loved  you  I  couldn't  do  it.< 
And   you    have   made   me   hate  you.      Our  living  to-H 
gether  as  you   propose  would  be  a  ghastly  mockci\. 
I  could  not  share  the  same  room  with  you  any  more," 
she  continued,  hurriedly,  "  not  for  millions'  ' 


Idols 

u  I  should  not  desire  it,"  he  replied,  coldly. 

( (  Then  why  should  we  not  keep  our  secret — as  we 
have  kept  it — and  part  now,  for  ever  and  ever?  " 

She  turned  eager,  imploring  eyes  upon  him,  yet  hard 
as  agates. 

u  I  don't  quite  understand,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  not  difficult.  You  have  told  no  one  of  oui 
marriage?  " 

"  Not  a  soul." 

"  Is  it  likely  that  it  will  ever  be  made  public  from 
the  registrar's  office?  " 

"  Practically  impossible." 

"  Don't  you  see,  then?  Anna,  the  only  interested 
witness,  is  as  faithful  as  a  dog — the  other  witness  and 
the  registrar  have  forgotten  our  existence — don't  you 
see  that  for  all  practical  purposes  the  fact  of  our  mar- 
riage lies  buried  in  a  book  in  Brighton  that  no  one 
will  ever  look  at  ?  that,  if  we  give  ourselves  out  as 
unmarried  to  the  end  of  our  lives  no  one  will  be  a  bit 
the  wiser?  We  will  never  see  each  other  again,  ex- 
cept accidentally  in  the  streets.  We  will  wipe  each 
other  clean  out  of  our  lives  and  start  afresh.  Isn't 
that  possible?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  it  is  perfectly  feasible." 

u  I  shall  keep  my  money — spend  it  as  I  like — go 
where  I  like.  You  shall  be  free  to  do  whatever  you 
want — marry,  if  you  choose — why  shouldn't  you?'3 

i(  It  happens  to  be  a  felony,"  said  Hugh, 
in 


Idols 

u  That  would  be  your  own  look  out.  I  should 
never  take  any  steps  to  prosecute,  you  may  be  quite 
sure.  Will  you  give  me  the  same  freedom  ;  ' ' 

44  You  must  let  me  think  before  I  answer,"  he  saufl 

"  Take  your  time,"  she  replied,  and  lay  back  agaul 
in  her  chair,  covering  her  eyes  with  her  hands.      For  ! 
the   second   time   Hugh   replenished   the  fire.      From 
outside  came  still  the  confused  soughing  of  the  wind, 
and  strange  creakings  filled  the  sleeping  house.      The 
wing   that    Minna  occupied  was   far  apart    from    the  | 
other  bedrooms.      Only  Anna,  who  was  sleeping  clotl 
by   in    Minna's   dressing-room,    was   within    earshot,  j 
At  any  time  they  could  talk  in  moderate  tones  and 
be  secure  from    discovery;    on   this  blustering  night 
scarcely   any   caution   was   necessary.       Absorbed    in1! 
this   final   settlement   of  their   lives,  neither  of  them  I 
noted  the  passing  of  the  hours.      After  a  long  interval 
of  deep  consideration,  Hugh  agreed  to  the  main  of  her 
proposal,  and  there  followed  a  full  and  anxious  debate 
upon  points  of  detail. 

4 '  What  do    you    propose    do  to — to   get  througfl 
ymir  liter  "  he  asked  at  length. 

i(  I  shall  go  abroad — to  gay  places.      I  shall  procure  I 
a  companion  to  suit  me — money  can  do  most  things,  j 
I  may  first  go  with  Anna  to  Smyrna  and  hunt  up  my 
mother's  people.      They   may   prove    interesting.     I 
can't  live  on  any  longer  here." 

c<  I  thought  not.      It  was  to  escape  this  that  y<fl 


Idols 

were  willing  to  live  with   me,  had  your  father  con- 
sented." 

"  Exactly." 

Another  long  pause.  Hugh  viewed  the  new  posi- 
tion in  all  its  aspects.  Humanly  speaking,  the  secret 
of  their  marriage  was  exclusively  their  own.  Any- 
thing like  a  reconciliation  was  out  of  the  question. 
If  he  had  spoiled  her  life  by  marrying  her,  he  could 
make  reparation  by  this  irregular  divorce.  Yet  he  felt 
bound  to  give  her  old  love  one  more  chance. 

"  Are  you  certain,  Minna,  that  you  care  for  me  no 
longer — in  no  way?  " 

"  Oh,  don't  re-open  that,"  she  said.  (<  All  that 
was  killed  for  ever — at  Brighton — in  December.  And 
even  if  it  wasn't,  do  you  think  I  could  willingly  give 
up  two  hundred  thousand  pounds  for  you?  "  She 
laughed  scornfully.  "  You  indeed  set  a  high  value 
upon  yourself.  Do  you  know,"  she  added  with  a 
sudden  firmness,  to  which  the  deep  tones  of  her  voice 
gave  a  savage  intensity,  "  I  would  commit  any  crime 
rather  than  give  up  that  money?  All  such  talk  is 
useless.  Let  me  have  your  final  answer  and  be  done 
with  it." 

u  Very  well,"  he  replied,  decisively.  <(  I  will 
grant  you  your  absolute  freedom  on  one  condition : 
that  this  compact  between  us  is  irrevocable." 

' (  It  shall  be.  Will  you  swear  to  it,  on  your  side — 
a  solemn,  binding  oath?  " 

113 


Idols 


44  I  give  you  my  word  of  honour." 

44  I  don't  much  believe  in  a  man's  honour/'  she 
said,  contemptuously.  "  An  oath  is  different." 

44  I  will  do  as  you  like,"  he  replied. 

She  rose,  vanished  for  a  moment  among  the  shadows 
of  the  room,  and  returned  with  an  Old  Testament. 

k  I  swear  on  this,  by  the  God  of  my  fathers,  that 
in  no  circumstances  whatever  will  I  reveal  the  fact  of 
my  marriage  with  you.  I  renounce  you  for  ever  as 
mv  husband.  I  renounce  all  claims  upon  your  sup- 
port, sympathy,  and  consideration.  I  swear  never  to 
interfere  in  any  shape  or  form  with  your  actions,  leav- 
ing you  free  to  marry  again  without  any  previous 
notification  to  me.  So  help  me  God." 

She  stood  deadly  pale,  her  teeth  chattering,  worn 
out  by  the  stiffness  and  exhaustion  of  her  long  vigil, 
and  handed  him  the  book  that  she  held  in  shaking 
fingi 

44  Since  you  desire  a  formal  oath,"  he  said,  ik  I 
will  take  it  in  the  form  you  have  prescribed." 

And  there  he  renounced  her  eternally  as  she  had 
just  before  renounced  him. 

He  looked  at  his  watch.  To  his  utter  astonish- 
ment it  was  past  six  o'clock.  With  an  exclamation 
of  dismay,  he  set  about  preparing  for  departure. 

How  the  night  had  passed  so  quickly  he  could  not  tell. 

44  There  is  no  need  for  you  to  keep  these  any 
longer,"  he  said,  holding  up  the  slippers.  She  her- 


Idols 

self  had  worked  them  for  him  in  a  fit  of  adoring 
industry. 

"  No.      Nor  the  other  things." 

She  took  a  small  bundle  neatly  wrapped  up  in 
brown  paper  and  handed  it  to  him.  He  thrust  it 
beneath  his  arm. 

I  u  Good-bye,  Minna,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  We  did  not  swear  to  be  enemies.  May  your  new 
life  be  happier  than  the  old." 

u  It  could  not  well  be  more  miserable,"  she  an- 
swered. But  she  gave  him  her  hand,  cold  and  nerveless. 

"  Poor  child,"  he  said,  "  God  help  you." 

He  turned,  left  the  room,  and  then  the  house  by  the 
way  by  which  he  had  entered.  A  fine  snow  was  fall- 
ing through  the  not  yet  lifting  darkness.  He  hurried 
homewards  blindly,  thinking  of  nothing  but  the  strange 
chapter  of  the  night,  his  heart  relieved  already  of 
enormous  burdens,  but  his  temples  throbbing  with  the 
strain  of  casting  them  off. 

He  met  not  a  soul  until  he  had  passed  the  Merriams' 
house.  Then,  as  he  neared  the  town,  dark,  strag- 
gling figures  of  workmen  passed  him,  trudging  on 
sleepily  through  the  snow  and  darkness. 

The  hall  porter  was  just  opening  the  great  outer 
door  of  the  mansion  when  he  arrived. 

u  Cold  morning,  sir,"  said  the  porter. 

"  Bitter,"  he  replied,  mechanically,  and  he  sprang 
up  the  stone  stairs. 


CHAPTER   IX 

HF  threw  off  his  dress  clothes  with  the  repulsion 
that  every  man  feels  for  such  garments  after  an  all- 
night  sitting.  He  was  tired  out,  capable  only  of  at- 
tending to  the  trivial  and  personal  things  that  imme- 
diately concerned  him ;  thanked  God,  with  the  fervour 
which  the  average  man  expresses  for  none  but  the 
trifling  mercies  of  Providence,  that  no  case  compelled 
hJN  attendance  in  court  at  ten  o'clock;  stretched  him- 
self, yawned,  stumbled  shivcringly  into  bed,  where, 
drawing  the  bedclothes  tightly  around  him,  he  sank  at 
onjjt  into  the  heavy  sleep  of  the  weary  man.  A  con- 
fused sound  broke  upon  his  slumbers.  In  a  waking 
dream  it  seemed  to  him  that  Minna  was  b  ;  ,vith 

a  hammer  at  some  formless  material  object  which  his 
mind  identified  as  marriage.  He  awoke  to  find  the 
noise  that  of  knocking  at  his  door.  In  reality,  he  had 
slept  some  hours,  but  he  was  conscious  of  only  a  few 
minutes'  repose.  He  called  out  angrily  to  be  left 
alone.  The  knocking  continued.  He  called  out 
again.  Then  a  strange  voice  was  heard 

'•  Can  I  sec  you  for  a  minute,  sir?  " 
lit 


Idols 

Exasperated,  he  jumped  out  of  bed  and  opened  the 
door. 

"  What  the  devil  is  it?" 

He  recoiled  in  some  astonishment  at  the  sight  of 
Israel  Hart's  butler,  Samuels.  The  man  looked 
greasy,  unkempt,  agitated.  Behind  him  flashed  the 
retreating  figure  of  Mrs.  Parsons,  the  porter's  wife. 

u  Come  in,  if  you  want  to  speak  to  me,"  said 
Hugh,  for  the  cold  draught  was  sweeping  down  the 
passage  through  the  open  flat-door.  Samuels  obeyed. 

u  An  awful  thing,  sir.  I  think  you  had  better 
come  round  at  once.  My  master  was  murdered  dur- 
ing the  night." 

If  he  had  suddenly  received  a  blow  from  a  life- 
preserver,  Hugh  could  not  have  been,  for  the  moment, 
more  stunned  and  dazed. 

"  Murdered — your  master — last  night?  " 

He  stared  at  the  man.  It  was  inconceivable.  The 
incredible  horror  of  it  was  that  he  had  passed  the 
night,  keenly  awake,  in  the  house.  Israel  Hart  mur- 
dered, a  few  yards  away  from  him,  without  uttering 
a  cry,  giving  out  a  sound  in  the  death-struggle — it 
passed  realisation. 

u  Yes,  sir,  in  his  study,"  said  the  butler  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  and  with  quivering  lips.  u  The 
housemaid  found  him  at  a  quarter  to  seven  this  morn- 
ing." 

"  How  did  it  happen?  " 
117 


Idols 

"  Someone   hit   him   with   something    heavy — just 
over  here." 

The  man  passed  his  hand  upwards  from  his  temple 
to  his  skull. 

(4  It  has  been  terrible  work  this  morning/'  he  add- 
ed, with  a  shiver. 

The  first  shock  over,  Hugh  recovered  his  balance. 
I  will   come  with   you   at   once.      Tell    me   the 
details  while  I  dress." 

And  while  he  hurried  into  his  clothes  and  afterwa 
ate  a  crust  of  bread  and  drank  a  cup  of  coffee,  Samuels 
told  his  story.  In  brief,  what  had  occurred  w.i>  this. 
The  housemaid,  coming  to  lay  the  study  fire,  had  dis- 
covered her  master  lying  huddled  together  on  th 
hearth-rug.  As  she  approached  with  her  candle, 
glance  had  showed  her  a  streak  of  blood  in  1 
hair.  She  had  screamed,  rushed  up  to  Samuels  and| 
given  the  alarm.  He  had  come  down,  seen  the  body, 
recognised  that  life  was  extinct,  had  sent  out  at  one 
for  a  doctor  and  a  policeman.  Pending  their  arriva 
he  had  caused  Miss  Hart  to  be  roused  by  her  maid, 
and  had  remained  in  the  study  to  prevent  any  of  th 
servants  disturbing  the  arrangements  of  the  room. 
Miss  Hart  had  come  downstairs,  wild  with  terror,  and 
had  fainted  away,  so  that  she  had  to  be  carried  up 
bed  again.  The  policeman  had  come  in  the  course  < 
a  few  minutes,  followed  soon  afterwards  by  the  doctor, 
who  was  a  near  neighbour.  Then  the  Inspector  had 

118 


Idols 

arrived,  and  later  a  Scotland  Yard  official,  and  they 
were  at  present  engaged  in  investigations.  There  did 
not  seem  to  be  the  slightest  clue.  It  was  an  awful 
mystery. 

u  And  Miss  Hart — how  was  she  when  you  left?  " 
asked  Hugh,  as  they  went  down  the  steps  of  the 
mansion. 

u  It  seems  she  came  to  very  soon,  sir,"  answered 
Samuels,  i  l  and  then  she  would  dress  and  come  down, 
and  now  she's  bearing  up  wonderfully.  It  was  she 
and  the  Inspector  that  agreed  you  were  to  be  fetched, 
as  you  were  the  last  person — except  the  other — that 
saw  him  alive." 

ct  Yes,"  said  Hugh,  u  I  remember  him  telling  you 
to  go  to  bed." 

u  Oh,  I  saw  him  again  after  that,  sir,  when  he 
went  upstairs." 

<c  Then  how  could  I  be  the  last?  Besides  I  thought 
he  was  found  in  the  study — I  don't  follow  you." 

u  He  went  upstairs  to  get  something  from  his  bed- 
room safe — and  then  went  down  again.  I  was  seeing 
to  the  fire  in  his  room — and  he  told  me  again  to  go  to 
bed.  I  thought  you  were  still  there,  sir." 

u  What  time  was  that?  "  Hugh  asked,  sharply. 

4<  That  was  five  minutes  to  twelve." 

"  Oh,  I  left  him  at  half-past  eleven,"  said   Hugh. 

They  arrived  at  The  Lindens.  A  knot  of  idlers 
ivere  standing  at  the  gates  discussing  the  straws  of 
119 


Idols 

information  that  floated  among  them.  A  policeman 
on  duty  marched  slowly  round  the  drive,  his  footprints 
indistinguishable  from  countless  others  that  had  broken 
up  the  thin  and  melting  coat  of  snow.  On  the  steps 
stood  an  Inspector  in  talk  with  a  couple  of  pressmen, 
who  were  taking  notes  with  red,  cold  fingers. 

The  Inspector  touched  his  cap  as  Hugh  came  up. 

"  A  shocking  affair,  sir.  If  you  will  go  in  I  will 
see  you  in  a  moment." 

Hugh  entered,  went  up  to  the  fireplace  in  the  hall 
and  warmed  his  hands,  wondering  at  the  force  of 
routine  which  had  caused  this  fire  to  be  lit  on  a  morn- 
ing of  such  upheaval.  The  slight  sound  of  an  open- 
ing door  made  him  turn,  and  then  he  saw  Mini 
pale  and  haggard  face.  She  beckoned  to  htm  hurriedly 
and  disappeared  into  the  dining-room.  He  followed 
her,  shutting  the  door  behind  him.  The  sight  of  the 
room  brought  a  fresh  shock  of  associations.  Was 
there  ever  such  a  ghastly  morrow  to  a  feast? 

Minna  stood  by  the  table,  one  hand  behind  her  rest- 
ing upon  it,  her  eyes  meeting  his  in  dull  defiance. 
She  checked  brusquely  his  first  half-articulated  ex- 
clamation of  sympathy. 

"Yes.  I  know  all  that  you  can  tell  me.  We 
can't  waste  time  over  it.  Have  you  spoken  to  the 
Inspector?  " 

44  Not  yet." 

4t  Thank  God  I've  seen  you  first.      This  does  not 
120 


Idols 

interfere  with  our  compact.  You  won't  say  a  word 
about  seeing  me  last  night?  " 

u  Certainly  not,"  he  replied,  turning  away  from  her 
with  a  feeling  of  repugnance.  u  As  far  as  your  father 
is  concerned,  I  left  this  house  at  half-past  eleven." 

She  closed  her  eyes  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 

((  I  was  afraid  you  might  betray  me — not  wilfully 
— but  indiscreetly." 

uHas  this  been  your  dominant  emotion  all  the  time?" 
he  said,  harshly.  (<  lam  glad  our  ways  lie  separate." 

"  I  have  my  interests  to  protect,"  she  said. 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  walked  past  her  to  the 
fireplace  and  leant  his  broad  shoulders  against  the  black 
marble  mantelpiece.  Her  selfishness  dumbfounded 
him.  Her  eyes  bore  no  trace  of  tears,  her  attitude 
not  a  suggestion  of  grief.  Ill  and  worn  she  looked; 
but  from  shock  and  strain  and  anxiety — not  from 
sorrow.  Had  she  no  human  feeling?  And  yet 
she  was  the  same  woman  whose  heart  had  throbbed 
with  wild  tumult  against  his;  whose  eyes  had  glowed 
with  a  burning  passion  in  their  slumberous  depths; 
whose  voice  had  melted  into  murmurings  like  the 
deep  notes  of  the  mating  dove.  Once  he  had 
compared  her  in  his  mind  to  a  volcano.  The  aptness 
of  the  similitude  occurred  to  him  now.  She  had  passed 
through  her  period  of  eruption.  Now  the  molten  fire 
of  her  nature  was  cold  and  unlovely  lava. 

She  moved  suddenly  from  the  table  with  the  drag- 


Idols 

« 

ging  step  of  exhaustion,  and  flung  herself  into  a  chair 
and  lay  with  her  head  bowed  upon  her  arm. 

**  I  know  how  you  judge  me/'  she  said,  hoarsely. 
{<  You  have  always  judged  me,  and  that  is  one  of  the 
things  that  made  me  hate  you.  You  think  I  ought  to 
be  in  floods  of  tears.  So  I  should  have  been,  if  it  had 
not  been  for  last  night.  But  I  must  protect  myself 
now  or  never.  No  one  can  do  it  for  me.  How  was 
I  to  know  that  you  would  be  discreet?  I  had  rum 
Staring  me  in  the  face.  I  have  strained  every  nerv 
to  keep  my  wits  till  you  came.  You  can't  tell  t 
agony  of  the  strain.  How  could  you?  And  thi 
awful  horror  overwhelming  me.  Oh,  God — don 
you  think  I  feel  the  horror  of  it?  " 

She  did  not  raise  her  face,  but  remained  with  it 
buried  on  her  arm  in  an  attitude  of  profound  prostra- 
tion. Soon  a  shudder  ran  through  her  frame.  She 
began  to  moan  and  sob.  An  impulse  of  pity  brought 
him  to  her  side. 

11  If  I  can  be  of  any  help  to  you,  Minna,  you  only 
have  to  command  me." 

Hut  she  did  not  heed  him,  only  waved  him  away 
with  her  free  hand. 

4<  Go — leave  me,"  she  said,  scarce  audibly. 

ic  If  you  want  me,  send  for  me  and  I  will  come," 
he  said.  He  left  her,  went  into  the  haH,  where  he 
found  the  Inspector.  To  the  lattcr's  questions  he- 
gave  what  formal  answers  lay  in  his  power.  A  news 

122 


nn 

I 


Idols 

agency  representative  joined  them  soon  afterwards. 
Gradually  Hugh  acquainted  himself  with  all  the  meagre 
facts  in  the  possession  of  the  police,  Mr.  Hart  had 
been  killed  outright  by  one  blow  of  a  blunt,  heavy 
instrument.  Death  must  have  occurred  during  the 
small  hours.  The  safe  in  the  study  was  found  open. 
The  only  article  apparently  missing  from  it  was  a 
black  deed-box,  which  Mr.  Hart's  confidential  clerk, 
who  had  been  summoned  immediately,  stated  to  have 
contained  bonds.  There  were  no  other  signs  of  rob- 
bery. A  thorough  inspection  of  the  premises  had 
discovered  no  traces  of  burglarious  entry,  the  only 
possibility  of  which  was  by  means  of  a  window  that 
had  been  left  unsecured.  Footprints  there  were  none, 
owing  to  the  slight  fall  of  snow.  For  the  present  the 
police  were  entirely  at  a  loss. 

"  Do  you  know  if  Mr.  Hart  had  any  enemies?  " 
asked  the  Inspector. 

u  A  man  in  his  profession  comes  into  intimate  rela- 
tions with  many  people  whom  he  could  not  call  his 
friends,"  replied  Hugh.  u  But  I  am  not  acquainted 
with  any  of  his  clients.  As  a  private  friend  I  always 
found  him  kind  and  generous." 

u  Could  you  supply  me  with  any  details  concerning 
his  private  life?  "  asked  the  pressman. 

"  I  am  scarcely  in  a  position  to  do  so,"  replied 
Hugh,  in  a  manner  that  precluded  importunity. 

He  felt  sick  at  heart,  unhinged,  and  longed  to 
123 


Idols 

be  free  from  the  sordid  horror  of  the  house.  His 
own  hidden  yet  intimate  connection  with  the  tragedy 
of  the  night  oppressed  him  like  an  incubus.  It  was 
he  who  had  started  the  poor  old  man  upon  a  train  of 
thought  and  emotion  that  had  kept  him  from  his  bed, 
where  the  murderer,  if  safe-robbery  had  been  his  only 
aim,  might  not  have  sought  him.  It  was  he  who  was 
responsible  for  the  unguarded  window  by  which  the 
murderer  had  entered.  And,  then,  the  fact  that  he 
had  been  beneath  the  same  roof  discussing  with  the 
daughter  her  inheritance,  while  the  father  was  being 
done  to  death  downstairs,  loomed  grotesquely  hideous 
before  his  eyes.  It  was  like  a  situation  in  some  \ 
melodrama  where  simultaneous  action  is  represented  in 
two  separate  and  adjacent  interiors. 

At  last  he  escaped  police  officials  and  reporters  and 
found  himself  in  the  Heath  Road,  glad  to  breathe  the 
outer  air  again,  grey  and  misty  as  it  was,  covering 
the  heath  like  a  pall.  Outside  the  Merriams'  he 
paused,  seized  with  a  sudden  desire  for  the  comfort  of 
Irene's  voice  and  the  sympathy  of  her  clear  eyes. 
Merc  intimacy,  too,  required  that  he  should  inform, 
her  of  the  catastrophe.  He  entered  with  the  latch-key 
which  he  possessed  by  virtue  of  his  intimacy,  anc 
knocked  at  the  door  of  the  smoking-room,  where 
Irene  always  worked  in  the  mornings.  As  soon  as  he 
appeared  on  the  threshold,  she  rose  quickly  from  her 
writing-table. 

124 


Idols 

"  You  have  come  to  tell  me — I  know  it.  The 
whole  of  Sunnington  knows  it — a  dreadful  thing — that 
poor  little  girl!  " 

u  I  have  just  come  from  the  house,"  he  said, 
gravely.  ( '  I  had  a  short  interview  with  her.  It  is  a 
terrible  shock,  of  course,  but  she  is  bearing  it  pretty 
well — better  than  I  should  have  expected.  You  know 
I  was  dining  there  yesterday,  so  I  was  nearly  the  last 
person  who  saw  him  alive.  For  that  reason  they 
came  to  fetch  me  this  morning." 

u  Tell  me  what  you  know  about  it,"  she  said, 
drawing  a  chair  towards  him.  He  sat  down  and  put 
her  in  possession  of  the  facts,  as  far  as  they  were 
cnown  to  the  police.  She  listened  intently,  sitting  by 
ler  writing-table,  supporting  her  chin  on  her  hand. 

V  And  have  they  no  clue  at  all?  " 

u  None.  The  poor  old  fellow  found  murdered. 
A  deed-box  gone  from  the  safe.  A  window  left  un- 
secured. Practically  speaking,  that  is  all  they  can  go 
upon." 

"  Do  you  know,  Hugh,"  said  Irene,  c<  I  am  con- 
vinced it  was  no  common  burglar.  It  was  some 
desperate  man  who  had  borrowed  money  on  some 
securities  which  he  knew  lay  in  that  box,  and  he  com- 
mitted this  crime  to  get  them  back.  He  was  hiding 
in  the  house  all  the  evening,  possibly  somewhere  in 
the  study — and  he  opened  that  window  to  escape  by 
the  back  lane." 

125 


Idols 

He  smiled  in  spitcof  himself  at  her  feminine  cenamty, 

4<  I  wish  they  would  put  you   in  charge  of  the  in- 
vestigations, Renie,"  he  said. 

44  But  don't  you    think    my  theory  is   quite  plaus- 
ible? "  she  asked,  accepting  his  remark  with  a  humble 
knitting  of  her  brows.      He  admitted  that  it  was,  ob-l 
served  that  he  had  spoken  not  in  satire  but  in  admira-j 
tion.      The   police   were    standing    about    there,    not] 
knowing  where  to  turn  next. 

44  Well,  the  first  thing,"  said  Irene,  4<  would  be  to>i 
l^t   the  securities   in  the  deed-box — there  must  be  a 
record  of  them   somewhere — and   then  to  investigate 
the  actions  last  night  of  each  of  the  clients  to  whom* 
the  securities  belonged." 

44  I  never  thought  of  that,"  he  exclaimed,  sharply. 
44  Yes,  they'll  do  that,  undoubtedl 

Irene  went  on  to  speak  of  Minna;    of  the  girl's*! 
friendless    isolation;    of   the    help    that    she    herself] 
might  have  offered,  had  Minna  not  so  resolutely 
pclled  her  advances.      She  would  be  even  willing  now] 
to  risk  a  breach  of  good  taste  if  she  could  befriem] 
her.      She  asked  his   advice.      Her  great-hearted  ne»4 
drew  him  very  near  to  her — so  near  that   it   require- 1 
a  moment's  struggle  to  stifle  the  craving  to  tell  her  a  J 
the   miserable   history  of  his   marriage,  and   his   ow 
connection  with  the  night's  tragedy.      How  could 
advise  her  in  the  matter,  knowing,  as  he  did,  Minna 
inveterate  jealousy  and  dislike? 

126 


Idols 

u  I  think  she  will  have  some  of  her  own  people 
with  her,"  he  remarked,  mendaciously.  u  She  said 
something  about  it  this  morning." 

He  rose  to  bid  her  good-bye.  As  she  took  his 
hand  she  scanned  his  face  earnestly. 

u  You  are  looking  so  ill  and  worn,"  she  said, 
affectionately.  l '  Much  more  so  than  when  you  came 
in.  It  has  been  all  this  discussion." 

"  Pm  afraid  it  is  the  want  of  my  breakfast,"  he 
said,  forcing  a  laugh. 

All  Irene's  protective  instincts  were  aroused. 

(  (  No  breakfast — and  you  were  going  away  without 
asking  for  anything  to  eat !  Sit  down  at  once  and  let 
me  get  something  for  you." 

She  ran  out  of  the  room  in  her  impulsive  way,  leav- 
ing him  standing  on  the  hearth-rug. 

( (  Good  God, ' '  he  said,  throwing  his  hat  and  gloves 
onto  the  chair,  u  I  never  thought  of  it."  And  he 
remained  staring  blankly  at  a  picture  in  front  of  him 
until  Irene  returned. 


127 


CHAPTER   X 

FROM  that  moment  Hugh  walked  on  the  edge  of  a 
volcano.  To  keep  his  thoughts  from  dizzy  hovcrings 
over  the  abyss,  he  chained  them  down,  with  desperate 
will,  to  the  work  he  had  on  hand.  In  a  week's  time 
would  begin  the  February  sittings  of  the  Central  Crim- 
inal Court.  Good  fortune  had  given  him  more  than 
his  usual  share  of  briefs.  One,  a  blackmailing  case, 
made  intricate  by  medical  complications.  His  client, 
the  defendant,  a  man  in  good  position. 

44  If  you  can  pull  it  off,  Colman,"  said  old  Harro- 
way,  the  solicitor,  who  had  known  Hugh  from  boy- 
hood, "  you'll  go  up  like  a  released  balloon." 

He  toiled  at  it  night  and  day  and  held  aloof  from 
his  kind.  The  publicity  of  his  connection  with  the 
murder  sickened  him.  He  took  cabs  to  and  from  his 
chambers  lest  his  ears  should  be  irritated  by  railway- 
carriage  discussions.  Minna  he  saw  once,  at  the 
inquest,  dressed  in  black,  closely  veiled,  attended  by 
the  old  Syrian  woman.  For  appearance  sake  he  had 
conducted  her  to  her  brougham.  Had  asked  her  one 
question  on  the  way  thither:  Was  she  staying  at  The 

128 


Idols 

Lindens  ?  She  replied  in  the  affirmative.  She  had 
hitherto  refused  offers  of  friendly  asylums.  Anna's 
sympathy  and  protection  sufficed  her.  What  might 
happen  later  she  did  not  know.  Perhaps  she  would 
accompany  Anna  to  Smyrna.  The  inquest  resulted 
in  a  verdict  of  wilful  murder  against  some  person 
unknown.  The  next  day  he  attended  the  funeral, 
walked,  a  haughty  and  tortured  Gentile,  amid  a  host 
of  serene  and  money-lending  Jews.  The  papers  nat- 
urally reported  the  fact. 

He  did  not  go  to  the  Merriams.  Gerard's  arrival 
in  town  was  the  occasion  of  a  peremptory  command 
to  dinner  from  Irene.  He  declined,  alleging  press  of 
work.  Gerard,  sent  by  Irene  for  tidings  of  the  ab- 
sentee, burst  in  upon  him  at  ten  o'clock  that  night 
and  found  him  sitting  with  dishevelled  hair  on  the 
edge  of  a  tumultuous  sea  of  brief  papers.  The  gen- 
uineness of  his  excuse  was  obvious. 

He  forced,  however,  his  visitor  into  a  chair,  handed 
the  tobacco  jar  and  poured  out  whiskeys  and  sodas. 
Gerard  eyed  the  quantum  of  spirits  in  Hugh's  glass; 
also  noticed  the  corkscrew  in  the  cork  of  the  three 
parts  emptied  whiskey  bottle. 

"  I  say,  you're  going  it  pretty  strong,  aren't  you?  " 
he  remarked,  with  a  significant  nod.  (<  What  is  the 
matter — work — worry?  " 

u  Both,"  said  Hugh,  putting  down  his  tumbler  and 
sweeping    his    moist    moustache    in   his   fierce   way. 
9  "9 


hi. 

44  The  work  to  get  over  the  worry,  and  the  wrmkes 
to  get  over  the  work." 

i4  What's  the  worry — this  Hart  affair 

11  I  suppose  so.      It  has  got  on  my  nerves.*' 

44  I  can't  see  why  the  devil  it  should,"  said  Gerard, 

h    a    little   contemptuous  laugh.      He  was  of  that 
kind  of  men  who  deny  the  existence  of  nerves. 

44  By  the  way,"  he  added,  after  awhile,  44  they  were 
damned  slack  at  that  inquest — I  was  just  saying  so 
Renic — with  the  safe  open  and  ledgers  and  th 
lying  about  the  table  when  the  old  man  was  found, 
had  I  been  the  coroner,  I  >hould  have  wanted  to  know 
the  subject  of  your  last  conversation  with  the  de- 
ceased." 

To  his  surprise,  Hugh  sprang  to  his  feet  in  a  great 
excitement. 

44  For  heaven's  sake,  old  man,  don't  talk  about  it 
in  that  cold-blooded  way.  I  am  in  a  devil  of  a  mess. 
I  don't  mind  telling  you  now — but  keep  it  dark  from 
Rcnic — I  owed  Hart  ,£5,000  on  my  expectati 
from  the  Brantfield  property.  He's  had  the  bond — 
of  course.  I  believe  it  was  in  that  stolen  deed-box — 
I  was  the  last  person  in  the  house — no  one  saw  me 
leave.  Has  Rcnie  told  you  her  theory  of  the  murder?  " 

Gerard  looked  at  him  and  whistled. 

44  That's  how  you  staved  off  the  bankruptcy,  was 
I  often  wondered." 

44  Yes,  that  was  how,"  said  Hugh,  laconically. 


Idols 

Gerard  reflected,  pulling  at  his  pipe. 

u  I  don't  see  anything  to  be  nervous  about.  Un- 
less you're  keeping  something  back  from  me — human 
nature  asserting  itself — are  you  ?  " 

u  I  tell  you  I'm  in  a  devil  of  a  mess,"  said  Hugh. 
u  I  didn't  mean  to  say  anything  about  it.  But  I've 
told  you  so  much.  If  you  could  help  me,  I  would 
let  you.  The  best  thing  is  to  go  home  to  Renie — not 
just  yet — and  forget  everything  about  it." 

Gerard  drew  his  eyelids  together  and  peered  at 
his  friend,  then  rose  and  walked  straight  up  to 
him. 

u  Do  you  mefen  to  hint  that  you  accidentally  killed 
that  old  man?  " 

Hugh  looked  at  him  incredulously  for  a  moment  and 
then  broke  into  a  derisive  laugh. 

"  You  fool!"  he  said. 

u  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  laughed  Gerard,  re- 
turning to  his  whiskey  and  soda.  Hugh  seated  him- 
self again  in  his  swivel-working  library  chair,  and  ran 
his  fingers  through  his  wavy  hair  impatiently. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  let  us  talk  of  something  else," 
he  said.  u  What  have  you  been  doing  with  yourself 
in  Edinburgh? " 

Gerar4  prolonged  his  visit  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  then  went  home,  leaving  Hugh  to  his  black- 
mailer's interests. 

4  (  You  are  back  early, ' '  said  Irene. 


Idols 

44  Yes.      He  is  in  the  midst  of  his  briefs.      He 
lucky  beggar.      I  wish  I  had  half  as  many  as  he." 

14  Why,  you  inconsequent  dear/'  said  Irene. 
44  Only  the  other  day  you  were  saying  you  were 
tired  of  practice — wanted  to  give  it  up  and  travel. 
Surely  4  semper  mutabilt  '  ought  to  refer  to  men 

44  Well,  why  shouldn't  a  man  get  sick  of  work?  " 

Irene  could  find  no  reply,  but  laid  her  hand  in  his. 
\Vh.iu-\rr  ( Jcrard  said  was  right. 

How  is  poor  Hugh?  "  she  asked. 

Gerard  laughed  with  masculine  ungraciousness  and 
withdrew  his  fingers  from  her  clasp,  so  as  to  press 
down  the  tobacco  in  his  pipe. 

44  You  always  talk  of  Hugh  as  if  he  were  a  lad 
instead  of  a  middle-aged  man.  He's  all  right.  But 
he  has  some  silly  idea  that  he's  in  danger  of  arrest 
over  this  Hart  affair." 

44  No!  "  cried  Irene,  quickly,  looking  at  him  with 
sudden  scare  in  her  eyes. 

44  It  seems  he  was  mixed  up  in  money  matters  with 
Israel,  and  he  was  the  last  person  with  the  old  man." 

44  That  is  wrong.  Hugh  left  at  11.30,  and  the 
butler  saw  Mr.  Hart  at  twelve." 

<4  I  don't  know,"  said  Gerard.  44  It  is  all  rub- 
bish. There's  something  behind  it  that  he  wouldn't 
tell  me.  I  know  nothing  of  Hugh's  private  life.  If 
he's  in  a  mess,  he'll  get  out  of  it  this  time  as  he  has 
done  before." 

132 


Idols 

But  Irene  did  not  treat  the  matter  so  lightly.  The 
face  that  met  Gerard's  somewhat  shifty  blue  eyes  was 
anxious  and  troubled.  Suddenly,  however,  came  the 
illumination  of  her  smile. 

"  Of  course  you  are  right,  dear  love.  It  is  all 
rubbish." 

But  far  from  rubbish  proved  Hugh's  forebodings 
when  he  came  home  from  chambers  the  following 
afternoon.  Parsons,  the  hall  porter,  desired  to  speak 
to  him,  accompanied  him  up  the  stairs  to  his  flat. 
He  was  an  honest  fellow,  grateful  to  Hugh  for  count- 
less careless  geneipsities,  and  at  the  same  time  regard- 
ing him  with  respectful  awe  on  account  of  his  some- 
what imperious  manner.  The  seriousness  of  the 
communication  he  was  about  to  make  agitated  him. 
With  many  hesitations  he  stumbled  through  his  story. 
The  police  had  been  making  enquiries,  had  learned 
the  hour  of  his  return  on  Tuesday  morning,  had 
cross-questioned  Mrs.  Parsons  as  to  the  condition  of 
his  clothes,  as  to  his  general  habits  ;  had  enquired 
whether  he  was  carrying  a  box  or  parcel. 

"  I  was  obliged  to  tell  them  that  you  were,  sir," 
said  the  porter,  greatly  distressed.  u  Though  I 
would  sooner  cut  my  tongue  out  than  do  you  any 
harm,  sir." 

"  Thank  you,  Parsons,"  said  Hugh.  "  I  am 
greatly  obliged  to  you  for  telling  me.  I  need  not 
say  that  you  can  give  the  police  any  information  con- 

133 


Idols 

ccrning    me    with    a    clear    conscience.      You    can't 
possibly  do  me  any  harm/' 

The  porter  went  away  relieved.  Hugh,  left  alone, 
went  to  his  spirit-case  on  the  sideboard  and  poured 
himself  out  a  stiff  glass  of  whisky.  4t  It  may  be  the 
last,"  he  said  to  himself,  grimly.  He  drank  it  off 
and  lit  a  cigarette  with  fingers  that  trembled  ju 
little. 

44  And  now  for  Minna,"  he   said,  striding   out 
the  room. 

I  he  expected  blow  had  fallen.  Arrest  was  certain. 
Unless  he  could  account  for  his  night,  release  was  im- 
possible. The  circumstantial  evidence  which  he  knew 
could  be  brought  against  him  was  enough  to  imperil 
life.  And  no  one  could  be  more  acutely  aware  th 
he,  a  criminal  advocate,  of  the  possibility  of  a  chain 
of  specious  links,  unsuspected  by  him  now,  that  might 
bring  him  powerless  to  the  gallows.  Now,  the  gal- 
lows is  a  gruesome  thing,  which  an  innocent  man,  full 
of  the  lust  of  life,  cannot  contemplate  with  equanirr 

The  marriage  could  be  concealed  no  longer.  It 
was  a  matter  of  life  or  death.  Then  all  would  be 
well.  Provided  only  he  reached  The  Lindens  before  a 
hand  was  laid  on  his  shoulder.  Through  the  gath- 
ering darkness  of  the  dreary  February  evening  he  hur- 
ried on  the  accursedly  familiar  road.  It  had  never 
seemed  so  long.  As  he  neared  the  vague  form  of  the 
constable  advancing  on  his  beat,  his  heart  throbbed 

134 


Idols 

violently.  Then  he  laughed  scornfully  at  his  fears. 
As  if  a  policeman  on  duty  would  arrest  him  !  Without 
a  doubt  he  was  being  shadowed  at  this  very  moment, 
and  when  the  time  was  ripe,  a  civil  spoken  officer  in 
plain  clothes  would  take  him  quietly  and  discreetly 
into  custody.  But  he  felt  glad  when  the  front  door 
of  The  Lindens  closed  upon  him  and  he  found  himself 
in  the  warm  security  of  the  hall. 

Samuels,  the  butler,  came  down  the  stairs. 

"  Miss  Hart  is  very  sorry,  but  she  cannot  receive 
you  to-day,  sir."  | 

"Is  she  in  bed?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  In  the  drawing-room." 

"  Thank  you,  Samuels ;  I  must  see  her." 

And  brushing  past  the  rather  bewildered  butler,  he 
mounted  the  stairs  and  entered  the  drawing-room  un- 
ceremoniously. Minna  rose  angrily  from  her  chair, 
keeping  her  thumb  between  the  pages  of  the  novel  she 
was  reading.  Dressed  in  a  loose  dressing-gown,  with 
her  hair  pinned  up  untidily,  she  was  all  the  more 
incensed  at  his  interruption. 

"  I  told  Samuels — "  she  began,  with  a  petulant 
stamp  of  the  foot. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  interrupted.  "  I  disregarded 
him.  This  is  not  a  time  for  politeness.  The  police 
are  after  me.  I  may  be  arrested  at  any  moment. 


Idols 

They  know  that  I  did  not  reach  home  till  the 

ing.      I  am  caught  in  a  trap.      I  must  account  for  my 

actions  between  half-past  eleven  and  seven." 

She  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet.      The  novel  slipped 
from  her  fingers  to  the  carpet. 

44  Impossible/'  she  said. 

44  What's  impossible 

44  That   they   should   arrest   you.      They   have 
evidence.      Oh!   it  is  absurd." 

44  Absurd  or  not,  they  will." 

Rapidly   he    sketched    his    position.      She    lister 
motionless,  and  with  quivering  lips. 

44  What  do  you  wish   me  to  do?  "  she  asked  in 
voice  scarcely  audible. 

11  It's    obvious.      You    must    release   me  from  my 
promise.      I  must  be  able  to  account  for  my  night*^B 
prove  my  statement." 

>rfeit  my  money!  "  she  cried,  terror  raising  her 
voice.  4(  Do  you  know  what  that  would  mean  to 
me  ?  This  wealth  that  my  father  got  together  is  flcst 
of  my  flesh  and  blood  of  my  blood.  I  can't  give 
up.  It  would  kill  me!  " 

k  It  would  be  your  life   for  mine,"  he  said,  ir 
ically. 

44  You  have  sworn,"  she  said. 

"If  I  had  given  mv  simple  promise  it  would   have 
been  sufficient.' 

44  Are  you  going  to  keep  it?  " 
136 


Idols 

He  drew  himself  up.  44  We  will  not  discuss 
that,"  he  said. 

4  4  Would  they  let  you  go  if  you  told  them  ? ' ' 

»44  Most  probably." 
44  And  if  they  did  not?" 

44  There  would  be  a  very  weak  case  against  me." 

44  But  a  wife's  evidence  is  invalid,"  she  cried, 
eagerly  seeking  the  loophole. 

44  There  is  Anna." 

44  But  it  would  be  against  you  to  confess  you  were 
in  the  house  at  that  |ime." 

44  Anna  could  swear  to  my  entrance  at  twelve  by 
the  window." 

44  It  might  lead  to  my  being  arrested,  too,  as  an 
accomplice." 

44  I  scarcely  think  so,"  he  replied,  coldly.  The 
interview  was  growing  hateful.  44  We  could  have 
Anna  as  a  witness  to  our  conjugal  relations.  She 
could  swear  to  entering  our  room  at  six  to  wake  us — 
if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  she  might  swear  she 
found  us  asleep.  Morality  has  its  limits  when  it's  life 
or  death." 

Minna  sank  into  a  chair  and  crouched  there  in  a 
shaking  terror. 

44  I  can't — I  can't — I  can't  lose  my  money." 

44  Very  well,"  he  said,  44you  may  keep  it.  I  shall 
take  my  chance." 

44  It  would  be  the  same,"  she  said,  hoarsely,  4<  if 
i37 


I.lols 

you  said  I  was  your  mistress  only.  Goldberg  is  an 
executor  under  my  father's  will.  He  hates  me — you 
know  why.  The  clause  in  the  will  would  put  him  on 
the  scent.  He  would  go  to  Somerset  House  and  dis- 
cover it  all." 

"If  I  am  arrested  and  brought  before  the  magis- 
trate, can  you  expect  Anna  to  be  equally  reticent : 

14  Anna  is  an  Oriental.  Besides,  she  starts  for 
Smyrna  to-morrow  morning." 

In  the  face  of  what  I  have  just  told  you,  will  you 
let  her  go?  "  he  asked,  sternly. 

44  Oh,  God!  "  she  cried,  leaping  to  her  feet  with 
sudden  wild  passion.  i(  Don't  torture  me  any  more. 
You  have  caused  enough  misery  in  my  life.  Why 
should  I  sacrifice  my  heart's  blood  for  you — on  the 
first  fanciful  alarm  of  danger !  Have  you  ever  made 
one  sacrifice  for  me?  Even  when  you  said  you  loved 
me,  did  you  give  up  one  hour's  philandering  with  that 
other  woman?  You  looked  upon  me  at  first  as  a  toy 
to  your  hand — you  told  me  so  in  this  very  room — to 
gratify  your  passions.  You  married  me  for  my 
money.  You  condemned  me  to  that  life  of  scheming 
and  falsehood.  You  were  afraid  to  face  my  father 
like  a  man.  You  ruined  my  life — and  now  that  I  am 
about  to  build  it  up  again — you  come — I  don't  believe 
it — it  is  another  lie — for  some  purpose  of  your  own." 

Hugh  looked  steadily  at  her'for  some  moments,  and, 
without  condescending  to  reply,  turned  on  his  heel 

138 


Idols 

and  stalked  towards  the  door.  His  hand  was  on  the 
knob,  when  she  rushed  forward,  caught  him  by  the 
coat  sleeve,  and  fell  at  his  feet. 

"  Forgive  me,  Hugh.  Forgive  me — I  did  not 
know  what  I  was  saying — all  this  is  driving  me  mad 
— forgive  me — pity  me — you  once  loved  me  Hugh — 
I  can't  lose  my  money — keep  our  secret  for  God's 
sake." 

She  sobbed  out  her  incoherent  and  imploring  words 
in  hoarse,  frightened  tones!  A  wave  of  supreme  scorn 
swept  through  him.  Even  an  hour  ago  this  craven 
agony  of  fear  and  avarice  would  have  been  inconceiv- 
able. But  he  raised  her  gently  to  her  feet,  and  drew 
her  a  short  way  from  the  door.  She  stood  trembling 
and  shrinking  before  him. 

u  I  have  already  told  you,  Minna,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  u  you  can  keep  your  money,  if  you  value 
it  more  than  my  life." 

In  another  moment  he  was  gone.  Minna  staggered 
to  a  couch  and  lay  there,  her  hands  clutching  at  the 
loosened  coils  of  her  dark  hair,  in  death  grapple  with 
the  devils  that  had  taken  possession  of  her. 

But  none  the  less  she  parted  from  old  Anna  Cassaba 
the  following  morning  without  breathing  to  her  a  word 
concerning  Hugh's  danger. 

u  You  will  come  very  soon,  dearie,  and  let  me 
show  you  your  dear  mother's  beautiful  country?  "  said 
the  old  woman,  amicf  the  final  adieux. 

139 


Idols 

44  Very  soon,"  sobbed  Minna,  clinging  round  her 
neck.  44  And  then  we'll  begin  a  new  life  and  forget 
all  this  horror.  I  want  to  forget  it  all — forget  I  was 
ever  married  —  forget  his  existence  —  and  every- 
thing!" 

Later  in  the  day  she  accepted  the  urgently  offered 
hospitality  of  Aaron  Bebro,  one  of  her  father's  oldest 
city  friends,  whose  motherly  wife,  forgetful  of  past 
disdain  and  derision,  gave  her  warm-hearted  welcome. 
She  took  the  girl  to  her  capacious  bosom  and  cried 
over  her  a  little;  and  Minna  was  miserable  and  frigh 
ened  enough  to  feel  grateful. 

During  dinner  that  evening  a  servant  entered 

pcrcd  into  Mr.  Bebro's  ear.  He  rose  hurriedly 
and  left  the  room.  Presently  he  returned  looking 
greatly  agitated.  To  his  wife's  enquiries  he  replied 
that  it  had  been  a  business  message.  But  Minna  was 
cd  with  a  horrible  foreboding  and  sat  through  the 
remainder  of  the  meal  sick  and  dumb,  while  her  kind 
hosts  pressed  upon  her  food  and  drink.  She  dared 
not  ask,  though  she  knew  what  the  answer  would 
be. 

Dinner  over,  he  signed  to  his  wife  and  grown-up 
daughter  to  leave  him  alone  with  their  guest. 

k '  I    have  some  very  serious  news  for  you,  my  dear 
young  lady.      A  messenger  from  Scotland  Yard  came  ' 
just  now." 

44  Have  they — arrested  anyone?  " 
uo 


Idols 

"  The  last  person  in  the  world  one  would  have 
guessed.  Prepare  yourself  for  a  great  shock. ' ' 

She  writhed  under  these  kindly  futilities  ;  the 
more  so  because  she  knew  that  some  expression  of 
horrified  astonishment  was  naturally  expected  from 
her.  A  ghastly  farce. 

"It  is  Mr.  Hugh  Colman.  It  seems  impossible, 
but  the  officer  told  me  there  is  a  great  deal  against  him. ' ' 

She  could  express  no  surprise,  but  sat  paralysed, 
dreading  lest  her  apparent  phlegm  should  give  away  her 
secret.  J 

u  There  must  be  some  mistake,"  she  said,  at  last, 
hoarsely.  (t  He  was  our  friend — dining  with  us  that 
night.  And  he  went  to  the  funeral." 

1  (  I  remember  seeing  him  there, ' '  said  Aaron  Bebro. 

"  Will  he  be  brought  before  the  magistrates  in  the 
morning?  " 

"  Of  course." 

u  Shall  I  have  to  go — to  give  evidence?  " 

"  Not  to-morrow,  I  am  glad  to  say;  but  perhaps 
afterwards. ' ' 

Minna  rose  from  her  chair. 

u  This  is  a  dreadful  shock,"  she  said,  in  steadier 
tones,  c '  and  it  has  upset  me.  I  think  I  shall  go  to 
my  room.  You  will  make  my  apologies  to  Mrs. 
Bebro — and  thank  you  for  your  kindness." 

She  looked  him  full  in  the  face  and  held  out  her 
hand,  which  he  pressed  warmly. 

141 


Idols 

44  You  arc  a  brave  girl,"  he  said.  But  once  in  her 
own  room,  her  nerve  gave  way.  She  stood  before  the 
mirror  and  laughed  hysterically. 

44  Yes,"  she  cried,  4t  I  am  a  brave  girl !  " 


CHAPTER  XI 

HE  was  remanded  for  a  week:  a  week  of  feverish 
public  excitement  and  of  great  suspense  for  those  that 
loved  him.  His  name  was  dragged  through  the  mire 
of  the  roadways,  then  held  up  to  execration.  He 
had  feasted  at  an  old  man's  table,  and,  before  the  gen- 
erous glow  of  the  host's  wme  had  had  time  to  cool, 
had  foully  murdered  him  for  money.  Imagination 
boggled  at  the  conception  of  a  meaner  miscreant. 
Thus  the  man  in  the  street,  who  is  seldom  guided  by 
the  abstract  principle  of  British  justice.  The  press 
began  to  spread  abroad  a  horrible  fame.  A  poet,  a 
brilliant  advocate,  a  man  in  the  public  eye;  they  ex- 
tolled his  achievements.  Those  to  whom  his  name 
had  been  hitherto  unknown  forgot  their  ignorance  and 
feigned  long  acquaintance.  His  poems  were  read  by 
self-conscious  hundreds.  Stories  of  forensic  triumphs 
recapitulated  by  half-penny  evening  newspapers,  with 
sensational  exaggeration,  brought  his  fame  as  an  advo- 
cate whither  no  poetry  ever  penetrated.  His  friends 
stood  by  sickened  and  helpless. 

"  If  he  gets  off,  there'll  be  a  boom  in  Colmans," 
said  a  cynical  clubman  to  a  friend.  u  He'll  be  the 
'  14? 


Idols 

darling  of  the  boudoir  and  the  champion  of  the  thieves' 
kitchen.      He  always  was  a  lucky  beggar." 

44  Hush,  there's   Merriam   at   your  elbow/'  whis- 
pered the  other. 

But  Gerard  had  overheard.      He  gave  the  speaker 
an  inscrutable  look  and  passed  on. 

Habitually  taciturn,  Gerard  spoke  very  little  of  his 
feelings  in  the  matter.  His  acquaintances  who  knew 
of  the  close  friendship  refrained  from  allusion.  At 
home  he  smoked  in  silence.  Irene,  measuring  his 
anxiety  by  her  ideal  of  the  love  between  Hugh  and 
himself,  respected  his  reserve.  But  her  own  pain 
burned  within  her  and  shone  from  her  eyes  in  a] 
strange  light.  She  waited  anxiously  with  him  for  a 
promised  visit  from  Harroway,  the  solicitor,  after  his 
first  interview  with  the  prisoner.  Harroway  was 
shown  into  the  smoking-room,  sat  on  a  straight-backed 
chair  away  from  the  fireplace,  and  mopped  his  fore- 
head with  his  handkerchief.  He  was  a  short,  stout, 
florid  man,  and  had  walked  fast  from  the  police  sta- 
tion; trouble  and  perplexity  had  also  disturbed  legal 
coolness. 

(l  It's  like  trying  to  ride  through  a  brick  wall/'  he 
said.     "  He  won't  open  his  mouth.     Same  story  to  mcj 
as  to  the  magistrate.      Can't  bring  a  single  witness  tc 
prove  his  whereabouts." 

lt  That's  absurd,"   said   Gerard.      "  A  man  can't 
exist  a  whole  night  in  London  in  Stygian  solitude." 

144 


Idols 

"  That's  what  I  told  him.  A  cabman,  a  servant, 
a  barman,  a  coffee-stall  keeper — anyone  would  do. 
Somebody  must  have  seen  him.  He  says :  (  I  left  The 
Lindens  at  eleven-thirty  and  I  got  home  at  six-thirty. 
Assume  that  I  have  lost  my  memory  completely  for 
those  seven  hours  and  do  what  you  can  for  me. '  3 

( l  But  can  he  have  lost  his  memory  ?  ' '  said  Irene. 
u  Such  things  have  happened." 

Harroway  shook  his  head  significantly.  u  Not  he. 
It's  pure  suicidal  obstinacy.  You  know  the  kind  of 
man.  I'm  sure  I  don't  d^ow  what  to  do.  There's 
enough  against  him  already — that  confounded  security 
of  his  was  in  the  missing  deed-box.  God  knows  what 
more  the  police  have  up  their  sleeve.  An  alibi  is  the 
only  thing.  I  told  him.  Replies  that  there  is  no 
question  of  proving  an  alibi.  You  know  he  might 
almost  as  well  plead  guilty  at  once.  What  is  one  to 
do,  Merriam?  " 

"  Cberchez  la  femme,"  replied  Gerard. 

"  Well,  can  either  of  you  give  me  any  idea?  You, 
Mrs.  Merriam ?" 

u  There  is  someone  he  is  fond  of  in  a  way,"  said 
Irene.  u  But  who  can  it  be  ?  It  is  someone  I 
don't  know.  But  surely,  if  it  is  a  woman,  she  will 
come  forward." 

"  Don't  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  Gerard. 

u  I  asked  him  point-blank,"  continued   Harroway, 

"  (  Is  the  woman ?  '      But  before  I  could  get  any 

10  145 


Idols 

further,  he   turns   upon    me  with  one  of  his  Paladin 
and   tells  me  he  never  suggested  that  a  woman 
was  involved." 

i4  That  settles  it,"  said  Gerard.  "  Either  that  or 
guilt. " 

44  Heaven  knows,"  sighed  Harroway.  4t  And  that's 
the  man  I  had  set  my  heart  upon  making  the  biggest 
criminal  advocate  of  the  day." 

44  Oh,  you  must  go  and  use  all  your  influence  over 
him,  Gerard,"  said  Irene,  anxiously. 

44  Do  you  think  I  have  ever  stopped  him  from  doing 
a  pig-headed  action,  all  the  years  I  have  known  him  :  " 

44  But   he  loves  you  above  everybody.      He  must 
i  to  you." 

44  Why  not  yourself?  "  asked  Gerard,  in  a  curious 
tone  that  caused  the  solicitor  to  glance  sharply  at  him. 

44  We  will  both  go,  Gerard — together." 

44  Not   a   bit   of  good,"    said    Harroway,  risii 
depart.      kt  He  sent   many  kind  messages — says  he'll 
write  at   length.      But  won't  see  you.      Won't  see  a 

.1  but  me.  He's  as  proud,  in  that  cell,  as  Lucifer. 
But  what  the  dickens  he's  got  to  be  proud  about  in 
getting  himself  into  this  ghastly  mess  is  more  than  I 
can  imagine." 

The  solicitor  gone,  Irene  turned  to  Gerard. 

44  Harroway  thinks  it  will  go  ill  with  Hugh.' 
.>o  do  I — if  he  keeps  up  this  attitude." 

44  There  is  something  beneath,"  said  Irene,  moving 
140 


Idols 

to  the  stool  by  the  fire,  near  his  feet,  and  putting  her 
hand  on  his  knee.  u  We  had  a  talk  on  the  day  be- 
fore. I  wrote  to  you  at  Edinburgh  about  it.  He 
was  on  the  point  of  committing  some  folly — hoped  we 
would  not  think  him  a  scoundrel.  •  What  does  it 
mean?'' 

Gerard  stretched  out  his  arms  and  clasped  his  hands 
behind  his  head. 

u  I'm  sure  I  don't  know.  The  man  was  always 
like  that.  One  never  could  tell  his  next  escapade. 
What's  the  matter?  You're  shivering." 

u  Oh,  I  am  frightened,  Gerard,  dear.  I  have  a 
foreboding  that  ill  will  come  of  it — for  all  of  us." 

u  What  the  dickens  has  it  got  to  do  with  you  and 
me  ?  "  said  Gerard. 

She  sat  silent  for  awhile,  looking  into  the  flaming 
abysses  and  fantastic  crags  of  the  fire.  Then  sud- 
denly she  turned,  excited,  clasped  his  knees  and  looked 
passionately  into  his  face. 

' (  We  must  move  heaven  and  earth,  Gerard.  He 
is  your  second  self.  If  he  should — if  anything  should 
happen  to  him — he  would  be  with  us  always,  reproach- 
ing us  with  his  dead  eyes  for  not  saving  him.  I  owe 
him  your  life,  my  beloved — and  mine — for  without 
you  I  should  die — Gerard,  dear." 

She  was  a  little  excited,  spoke  a  trifle  shrilly. 
Gerard  unclasped  his  hands  and  bent  forward.  Inter- 
preting the  gesture  according  to  her  heart,  she  knelt 

T47 


Idols 

and   swiftly  closed   his  arms  around   her,  and  nestled 
close  to  him. 

44  You  may  be  sure  I  shall  do  all  I  can/'  he  said. 

She  closed  her  eyes.      The  man's  calm  strength 
voice,  the  hidden  strength  of  his  frame  reassured  her 
fears. 

44  Forgive  me   for  doubting  while  you  are  here  to 
save  him,"  she  murmured,  in  her  blind  faith. 

A    few  moments   later   some   domestic   duty 
moned  her  away.      Gerard  rose,  and  stretched  hims 
and  yawned. 

44  Oh,  damn!  "  he  said,  irritably. 

Then,  lighting  his  pipe,  he  strode  out  the  house, 
and  tramped  along  the  Heath  Road,  with  the  air  of 
man  who  is  justifying  to  himself  a  series  of  expletive 

The  week  expired.      Hugh  was  again  brought  be- 
fore the  magistrates  and  committed  for  trial. 

The  key  turned  in  the  cell-door  in  Holloway  Gaol, 
and  he  was  left  alone  for  the  night.  In  a  state  of 
semi-sanity  he  abandoned  himself  to  the  ghastly  pan- 
orama of  the  day,  as  it  passed  and  repassed  in  inco- 
herent fragments  before  his  eyes.  He  was  pi 
with  fatigue  and  strain,  utterly  brain-wear)',  incapable 
of  lucid  arrangement  of  ideas,  almost  of  calculating 
the  weight  of  the  evidence  against  him. 

Fresh  facts  had  been  brought  to  light.      The  butler 
had   heard    him   speak    in   angry  tones  when   he  had 

M8 


Idols 

entered  the  room  with  the  spirit-tray.  The  entry  in 
Israel's  private  ledger  assigning  the  stolen  deed-box 
as  the  depository  of  the  ^5,000  security  had  been 
confirmed  by  the  confidential  clerk.  Moreover,  the 
empty  box  had  been  discovered,  broken  open,  in 
the  trunk  of  a  hollow  tree  in  the  wood  behind  The 
Lindens.  The  prisoner  had  returned  with  a  mys- 
terious parcel  of  which  he  could  give  no  account. 
On  searching  his  rooms  after  arrest,  the  police  had 
found  the  grate  full  of  scrupulously  reduced  paper-ash. 
The  inference  was  that  this  ash  represented  the  stolen 
bond.  It  was  another  instance  of  the  irony  that 
marked  this  extraordinary  freak  of  circumstances. 
Even  his  careful  destruction  of  Minna's  letters  and 
all  memorials  of  her  was  turned  into  evidence  against 
him.  Medical  testimony  placed  one  o'clock  and  five 
as  the  extreme  limits  between  which  the  murder  could 
possibly  have  been  committed.  Probabilities  pointed 
to  three  o'clock. 

In  his  sleepless  and  disordered  fancy,  the  wit- 
nesses jostled  each  other  in  the  box,  giving  inconse- 
quent scraps  of  evidence.  But  clearest  before  his 
mind  rose  the  picture  of  Minna,  his  wife,  the  sole 
person  in  the  universe  that  could  be  absolutely  certain 
of  his  innocence.  There  she  stood,  appalling  in  the 
wreckage  of  her  beauty,  a  thin,  black,  pinched  figure, 
hollow-eyed,  drawn-lipped,  telling  the  half  truth  that 
was  more  damnable  than  a  lie.  She  had  parted  from 

149 


Idols 

Mr.  Colman  at  clcvcn>  had  gone  up  to  her  room. 
Had  heard  no  sound  in  the  house  till  she  was  awak- 
ened in  the  morning  to  learn  the  horrible  news.  The 
relations  between  Mr.  Colman  and  her  father  had 
always  been  most  cordial.  He  had  dined  with  them 
that  evening,  her  father  in  the  best  of  spirits.  Mr. 
Hart  had  never  mentioned  that  Mr.  Colman  was 
client.  Clients  were  not  visiting  acquaintanc 
That  was  all.  She  had  not  met  his  eyes,  scar 
those  of  the  Crown  prosecutor  or  the  magistrate  wh 
they  questioned  her.  Had  replied  doggedly,  in  th 
deep,  hard  voice  he  had  grown  so  familiar  with  of 
late.  But  one  year  ago  it  had  stirred  all  the  fibres  in 
h\^  body.  To-day  not  a  vestige  of  its  richness  re- 
mained. 

She  floated  fantastic  in  his  memories.      Once  during 
the   night   he   fell    into  a  brief  half-sleep.      She  gave' 
him   again    the    brown-paper    parcel — but   loose   this 
time,  so  that  the  paper  slipped  away,  and  revealed  a 
halter.     He  woke  sweating  with  the  nightmare.    Any- j 
thing  approaching  sleep  was  thenceforth   imp 
The  dim,  perpetual,  inextinguishable  light  in  his  cell 
grew  to  a  maddening  irritation.      He  yearned   for  the  • 
soothing  comfort  of  darkness.      He  wrapped  his  head 
in   his  bedclothes  to  shut  out  the  light — but  with  the 
ill  success  familiar  to  all  who  have  tried  it.      So,  until 
the  dawn,  he  remained  staringly  awake,  and  the  phan- 
tasmagoria of  his  trial  swept  endlessly  on. 


Idols 

Faces  of  friends,  anxious,  incredulous,  seen  in  the 
crowded  little  court,  rose  up  before  him.  Gerard's 
and  Irene's  most  continuously.  She  wore  a  tight- 
fitting  dark-blue  jacket  and  a  little  toque  to  match,  set 
amid  the  fair  waves  of  her  hair.  He  remembered 
vividly  every  detail — the  white  stitching  of  her  black 
gloves.  He  strove  to  keep  her  image  before  him — 
the  sweetness  of  her  smile,  the  trust  in  her  grey  eyes. 
But  Minna,  hard  and  sullen,  came  and  blotted  out  the 
more  gracious  fantasy.  Again  he  recalled  Irene — 
the  last  scene,  before  he  was  led  away  to  the  prison 
van,  when  friends  crowded  round  the  dock;  Gerard 
among  the  first. 

"  It's  bound  to  come  right,  Hugh.  We'll  do  our 
best." 

Irene  had  struggled  forward  and  the  others  had  fallen 
back.  And  she  had  put  up  both  hands,  which  he, 
leaning  over,  had  taken  in  his;  and  he  had  seen  the 
great  pain  burning  beneath  her  eyes. 

"  Oh,  Hugh,  if  our  love  for  you  can  do  anything 
— use  it — God  bless  you  !  ' ' 

A  hurried  speech,  uttered  in  the  swiftness  of  the 
hand-clasp.  He  tried  to  keep  it  with  him  as  a  charm 
against  the  bugbears  of  the  night.  But  until  the 
warder  came  at  half- past  six  to  wake  him,  they  swam 
before  him  in  a  whirling,  reiterative  circle,  recurring 
almost  rhythmically  like  the  separate  monstrosities  of 
horses  in  an  infernal  merry-go-round. 


Idols 

Day  came,  and  with  it  clearness  of  mind  and  logical 
sense  of  proportion.  When  Harroway,  the  solicitor, 
arrived,  he  discussed  the  situation  with  practised  acut 
ness.  His  defence  was  clear.  The  stealing  of  th 
security  was  too  ludicrous  an  expedient  for  a  man 
his  intelligence.  Besides,  its  legal  value  was  that 
of  a  blank  sheet  of  foolscap.  Of  this  Hart's  confi- 
dential clerk  had  full  knowledge.  Would  a  jury 
believe  a  man  to  be  so  idiotic  as  to  commit  a  murder 
in  order  to  steal  that  which  he  knew  to  be  worthless? 
Was  it  likely  that  a  man  who  had  committed  a  murder 
at  three  o'clock  would  deliberately  postpone  his  return 
home — a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk — until  an  hour 
when  his  arrival  would  be  certain  to  attract  attention  ? 
But  Harroway  shook  his  head  dolefully. 

"  Of  course  we'll  put  all  that  forward.  But  the 
self-incriminating  stupidity  of  criminals  is  a  by-word. 
If  the  attorney-  or  solicitor-general  is  prosecuting  and 
takes  his  privilege  of  answering  Gardiner,  he  will  con- 
vince the  jury  of  this  little  fact.  It  would  be  much 
more  to  the  point  if  you  would  tell  us  how  to  prove 
an  alibi.  That's  the  infernal  part  of  it.  No  one  is 
such  a  damned  fool  as  to  believe  that  you  were  lying 
drunk  and  invisible  in  a  gutter  all  night.  You  can 
prove  an  alibi  if  you  like,  can't  you?  " 

Vrtainly,"  replied  Hugh,  with  a  baffling  twirl  of 
his  moustache.  (t  But  I  am  going  to  do  no  such 
thing.  Please  consider  that  final.  If  you  and  Gar- 

.52 


Idols 

diner  can't  get  me  off  without  it — well,  I'll  hang. 
Jouir,  mourir  et  ne  rien  dire  /  And  that's  the  end 
of  it." 

He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders  magnificently.  The  stout  solicitor  rose  with 
irritation. 

"  You  are  a  confounded  anachronism.  You  were 
meant  for  the  Marquis  de — de — God-knows-what  in 
the  French  Revolution.  You  would  think  it  a  fine 
thing  to  stay  the  hangman  until  you  had  used  your 
toothpick.  You  don't  understand  that  a  life  like  yours 
is  of  value  nowadays.  You  are  risking  it — braving 
the  gallows  for  some  infernal  woman.  It  stands  to 
reason.  I  am  sick  of  women  !  ' ' 

u  So  am  I,  Harroway,"  replied  Hugh,  coolly. 
u  You  seem  to  have  got  them  on  the  brain.  Let  us 
change  the  conversation." 

Soon  afterwards  Harroway  departed,  and  the  day 
wore  on.  The  next  passed  and  the  next,  and  other 
days  followed  in  dreary  succession.  They  added  ten 
years  to  his  life.  In  spite  of  defiant  resolve  to  con- 
sider no  phase  of  the  prison  discipline  and  degrada- 
tion, the  taint  of  the  cell  ate  into  his  flesh  and  weak- 
ened his  soul  with  strange  cowardices.  Sometimes  the 
weight  of  evidence  crushed  him  overwhelmingly  and 
he  shook  in  an  agony  of  terror  at  the  consequences. 
The  strain  of  silence  and  secrecy  suffocated  him. 
Like  a  diver  who  has  just  exceeded  his  habitual 

153 


Idols 

period  of  immersion,  he  felt  that  in  another  moment 
his  temples  would  burst  and  his  heart  fail.  Then 
he  would  ask  himself  passionately  the  reason  of  his 
silence,  rebel  against  the  self-imposed  imprisonment 
of  speech.  Was  she  worth  the  folly  of  this  sacrifice 
— she  whose  inconceivable  avarice  seemed  to  have 
annihilated  elementary  human  emotion?  If  the  loss 
of  her  money  should  kill  her — were  it  not  better  that 
she  should  die?  To  brave  the  trial,  secure  acquittal, 
live  through  the  eternal  after-stain  of  suspicion — for 
that  he  was  prepared.  But  to  face  the  gallows- 
accept  her  gift  of  the  halter — his  courage  failed  him. 
The  cold  sweat  of  the  nightmare  broke  out  from  head 
to  foot.  He  clung  desperately  to  life. 

Once  a  shaft  of  sunlight  streamed  into  his  cell  and 
abutted  on  the  opposite  whitewashed  wall.  He  sat 
on  his  wooden  chair  and  leaned  against  the  bed  and 
watched  the  dust  dancing  in  the  gold.  Touching 
some  hidden  chord  of  forgotten  association — a  child  \ 
poetic  fancy  long  ago,  perhaps,  translating  the  glory 
of  glistening  motes  in  the  quivering  mystery  of  the 
beam — it  awakened  an  unutterable  torture  of  yearning 
for  the  free  air  of  the  world.  He  threw  himself  on 
the  bed  and  buried  his  face  in  the  pillow  to  prevent 
a  cry  from  passing  his  lips. 

But  such  crises  of  weakness  were  rare,  and  they 
were  always  followed  by  long  intervals  of  dogged  and 
half-cynical  calm.  He  had  sunk  far  beneath  his  ideals 

'54 


Idols 

of  honour  in  his  marriage  with  Minna  Hart.  Her 
taunts  had  been  just.  He,  Hugh  Colman,  who  had 
ever  before  sinned  en  prince,  and  had  never  shrunk 
from  the  eyes  of  man  or  woman,  had  played  the  part 
of  a  skulking  villain.  He  had  married  her  for  her 
flesh,  for  her  money,  thereby  wronging  her.  He  had 
made  her  the  toy  of  a  week's  passion,  and  then  neg- 
lected and  wounded  her.  Now  was  the  hour,  if  any 
there  could  be  in  the  world,  when  he  might  make 
expiation  both  to  her  and  to  himself.  He  would  take 
his  chance,  meet  his  destiny,  this  time  at  any  rate, 
like  a  man.  He  would  not  redeem  twenty  lives  at 
the  price  of  her  money.  In  his  contradictory  way 
the  man  was  as  proud  as  Lucifer. 

The  knowledge  of  the  anxiety  of  his  sisters,  the 
dear  peaceful  women  who  worshipped  him  as  the 
paragon  of  all  the  excellencies,  was  a  perpetual  pain. 
He  wrote  to  them  reassuringly,  minimised  the  danger, 
expatiated  upon  the  point  of  honour,  and,  knowing 
their  sensitive  spot,  brought  forward,  with  some 
twinges  of  self-contempt,  the  family  pride.  Death 
before  dishonour — but  death  a  remote  contingency ; 
thus  could  his  message  be  summarised.  Old  Geoffrey 
Colman,  who  had  been  illustrating  the  proverb  that 
threatened  men  live  long,  also  wrote  on  the  subject  of 
the  family  honour.  To  save  it,  he  was  willing  to  buy 
up  the  security — the  history  of  the  reversion  was  the 
property  of  a  million  wagging  tongues.  But  this 


Idols 

Hugh  peremptorily  declined.  The  debt  now  lay  be- 
tween himself  and  Minna.  There  was  the  pound  of 
flesh,  but  not  a  drop  of  blood.  Sacred  should  be  the 
letter  of  the  law. 

The  days   passed,  he  scarce  knew  how,  eventless, 
dull,  yet  filled  with  cravings  for  the  vivid  life  of  action 
that  had  been  first  his  inheritance  and  then  his  pr 
Their   inactivity  weighed   upon   him.      He  envied  his 
fellow-prisoners,  upon  whom  sentence  had  been  passed 
and  who  had   their  daily  tasks  to  execute.      Chapel, 
exercise,  meals,   reading,   sleep — his  sole  avocationtjl 
Now  and  then  came  Harroway  and  with  him  Charlc 
Gardiner,  y.C.,  his  friend  and  counsel. 

Other  visitors  he  refused  to  receive.      Sensitive 
pliant   as  was   his   nature,  yet    it  was   traversed   by 
seam  of  flint  that  rendered  it  self-sufficing.      He 
one  of  those  men,  capable  of  chivalrous  impulse  and 
lasting  loyalty,  who  nevertheless  are  unable  to  reveal 
themselves  entirely   to   dearest    friend    or    belovedesfl 
woman ;  who  reserve,  as  a  jealous  right,  a  portion  of  j 
themselves  for  their  own  exclusive  possession.      N°B 
only  were  his  lips  of  necessity  closed  on  this  matter^ 
but  also,  in  the  battle  against  circumstances  which  he 
had   undertaken   to  fight   single-handed,  too  vivid 
pression   of   sympathy   was  distasteful.        His    sister 
would  have  clung  about  hi*  neck  and  unmanned  hii 
Irene,  who  would  hi\e  underwood  his  reticence, 

.'.J   not   receive  without    Gerard.      And   his  pr 


Idols 

shrank  from  the  idea  of  meeting  even  Irene.  The 
moment's  speech  and  hand-clasp  after  the  trial  had 
been  sufficient  to  convince  him  of  her  trust  in  his 
innocence.  But  the  thrilling  pity  and  admiration  in 
her  eyes,  he  could  not  bear.  Already  she  had  written : 
u  You  are  shielding  a  woman's  honour  at  the  risk  of 
your  life ;  but  what  woman's  trumpery  honour  is  worth 
such  chivalry?  "  And  he  had  written  back  in  grim 
truthfulness:  "It  is  no  woman's  honour  that  I  am 
protecting,  and  my  attitude  is  far  from  heroic."  But 
he  knew  her  well  enough  to  realise  that  she  would  not 
believe  his  disclaimer.  To  destroy  her  feminine  concep- 
tion of  his  character  was  impossible ;  but  he  could  not 
bear  to  masquerade  in  her  presence  in  the  guise  of  a  hero. 
And  Gerard  ?  During  the  hours  of  solitude, 
when  the  confused  impressions  of  past  years  had  bit- 
ter opportunities  of  crystallisation,  he  had  suffered  the 
shock  of  the  discovery  that  their  present  friendship 
was  but  the  simulacrum  of  the  old.  A  quaint  fancy 
figured  it  forth  in  his  mind.  Once  clad  in  shells  of 
armour,  as  most  men  are  clad,  they  had  stood  together, 
gauntleted  hand  in  hand,  for  mutual  defence  and  com- 
mon purpose.  Long  since  they  had  crept  out,  donned 
other  mail,  but  still  stood  the  hollow  figures  in  futile 
clasp,  somewhat  of  a  mockery.  And  a  woman  came 
and  led  them,  now  and  then,  each  into  their  old  habi- 
tations, whereupon  they  moved  the  hands  up  and 
down,  in  spasmodic  greeting. 

157 


Idols 

Conceits  aside,  something  had  come  between  them. 
It  was  not  Irene,  he  thought,  for  she  had  kept  them 
together,  making  her  boast  of  their  perfect  friendship. 
Was  the  phenomenon  negative,  merely  the  cessa- 
tion of  mutual  attraction?  He  could  not  tell.  It 
was  sufficient  dismay  to  find  that,  at  this  time  of  peril, 
there  were  many  other  men  with  whose  companion 
ship  he  could  have  borne  sooner  than  with  Gerard's. 
But  rather  than  allow  Irene  to  suspect  this,  he  we 
have  undergone  any  tortures  of  isolation.  So 
awaited  his  trial  in  proud  loneliness. 

And  from  Minna,  not  a  sign  of  solicitude. 


158 


CHAPTER   XII 


WHEN  a  human  being  has  not  slept  for  five  or  six 
nights,  especially  if  that  human  being  is  a  woman  of 
romantic  temperament,  many  queer  things  are  bound 
to  happen.  The  sensory  nerves  become  susceptible 
to  impression  from  all  influences  that  exist,  and  from 
many  that  do  not.  The  head  swells  to  an  enormous 
size  with  its  unrelieved  store.  Bells  and^music  and 
the  voice  of  an  invisible  person  reading"  aloud  an 
interminable  and  unintelligible  book  throb  on  the 
tympanum.  Men  and  women  have  an  uncomfortable 
way  of  growing  suddenly  large  and  then  suddenly 
small  before  the  eyes.  The  flesh  seems  disintegrated 
into  elemental  and  quivering  molecules.  A  sixth 
sense  riotously  develops,  and  makes  the  sufferer  aware 
of  a  murderous  devil  dogging  the  footsteps.  Under 
these  conditions,  to  join  in  the  small-talk  of  a  family 
dinner  table,  do  fancy  work  in  the  drawing-room  and 
play  Grieg  on  the  piano  to  a  virtuoso,  argues  a  con- 
siderable reserve  fund  of  moral  power.  And  this  is 
found  more  commonly  in  women  than  in  men. 

Until  the  day  of  Hugh's  trial  at  the  Old  Bailey, 
Minna  had  successfully  concealed  her  state  from  the 

159 


Idols 

friendly  eyes  of  the  Bebros.  She  looked  wren 
ill,  but  a  cunning  shade  of  carmine  relieved  her  hag- 
gardness  and  caused  her  to  appear  nothing  more  than 
interestingly  afflicted.  When  the  pains  of  h:ll  gat 
more  closely  round  about  her,  she  forced  her  lips  into 
a  photographic  smile,  thereby  impressing  the  motherly 
Mrs.  Bebro  with  a  sense  of  her  patience  under  tribula- 
tion. It  was  a  gruesome  comedy. 

At  first  pure  terror  and  avarice,  bitter  resentment  of 
the  wrongs  Hugh  had  done  her,  and  consequent  blind- 
ness to  the  imminent  peril  in  which  he  stood,  had 
paralysed  the  moral  sense.  But  later,  after  she  had 
given  evidence  before  the  magistrates,  she  knew  to 
the  full  that  she  was  playing  the  most  desperate  game 
that  ever  woman  played  for  money.  The  gambler's 
net  kept  her  mind  clear;  strength  of  will  saved 
her  from  collapse.  Hugh  acquitted,  all  her  money 
would  be  her  own.  Everything  would  be  well.  She 
would  seek  fresh  scenes,  blot  this  nightmare  for  ever 
from  her  life.  Hugh  condemned,  she  would  do  some 
mad  deed  to  save  him,  summon  Anna  Cassaba  from 
;i,  cast  herself  at  the  feet  of  the  Home  Secretary, 
surrender  her  thousands,  and — throw  herself  over 
Waterloo  Bridge.  This  was  a  doom,  inevitable, 
meted  out  to  her,  rather  than  a  scheme  which  her 
brain  had  devised.  All  the  passionate  yet  stubborn 
racial  energies  of  her  nature  were  concentrated  upon 
the  supreme  effort  of  making  her  last  bid  for  fortune. 

1 60 


Idols 

It  was  a  fixed  idea,  focussing  the  distempered  mind 
and  magnetising  the  exhausted  flesh. 

Her  last  bid  for  fortune.  She  had  made  it.  She 
found  herself  in  Mrs.  Bebro's  carriage,  with  the  moth- 
erly lady  by  her  side.  How  she  had  been  transported 
thither  from  the  swaying,  reeling  court,  she  did  not 
know.  Mrs.  Bebro,  with  veil  raised  above  red  eyes, 
was  holding  her  hand.  Yet  she  had  a  vague  know- 
ledge that  she  had  not  fainted.  * 

"  There,  there,  it  is  over  now,  dear,"  said  her 
companion,  kindly.  "  It  has  been  a  trying  time  for 
you.  We'll  soon  get  home,  now,  and  a  cup  of  tea 
and  a  lie  down  will  do  you  good." 

"Yes,"  said  Minna,  hoarsely.  "It  will  do  me 
good." 

"  Poor  young  man,"  said  Mrs.  Bebro.  "  I  nearly 
cried  my  eyes  out  over  him." 

"It  is  a  terrible  thing,"  said  the  girl,  with  set 
teeth,  clenching  the  arm-strap  with  her  free  hand. 

"  And  I'm  sure  he's  innocent — poor  fellow.  I 
met  him  once — you  remember?  Such  charming  man- 
ners— like  a  prince.  And  your  poor,  dear  father  so 
fond  of  him  too.  He  can't  have  done  it." 

"  I  know  he  is  innocent,"  said  Minna. 

Hitherto  Mrs.  Bebro  had  been  very  considerate  in 
her  allusions  to  the  dreadful  topic.  But  now  human 
nature  asserted  itself.  She  was  anxious  to  sympa- 
thise, also  to  re^eve  pent-up  emotions;  for  the  fascina- 
ii  161 


Idols 


tion  of  a  murder  upon  those  intimately  connected  with 
it  is  intense — it  is  a  splash  of  blood  upon  the  g 
veil  of  decorous  life,  and  cannot  be  hidden.  She  took 
up  her  parable,  discoursed  at  length,  in  a  hushed  voice, 
such  as  she  considered  reverend  upon  the  Day  of 
Atonement.  And  as  she  talked,  in  the  cramped  space 
of  the  noiselessly  gliding  brougham,  the  horrors  grad- 
ually grew  upon  the  girl. 

44  We  must  buy  an  evening  paper  to  sec  what  hap- 
pened before  we  got  there.  But  I  asked  the  poll 
man,  and  he  said  things  were  going  very  bad  for  the 
poor  fellow.  When  once  I  got  in,  I  should  have 
liked  to  have  heard  it  all  from  the  beginning.  But  it 
would  have  been  too  painful  for  you,  poor  dear  child, 
to  have  done  more  than  just  given  your  evidence.  I 
am  glad  you  were  able  to  say  what  you  did  about  him. 
It  may  help  him." 

t4  Yes,  I  tried  to  help  him,"  said  Minna. 

The  sides  of  the  brougham  seemed  to  be  narrowing 
upon  her,  like  the  Inquisition  torture-chamber.  She 
suddenly  thrust  out  her  arms  to  keep  them  off. 

44  My  dear  child 

The  question  suddenly  restored  her  balance.    But  she 
wanted  to  scream.     Instead,  she  uttered  a  short  laugh. 
I  was  thinking  what  a  screaming  farce  this  would 
make  in  hell!  "  she  said,  gutturally. 

Mrs.  Bebro  looked  at  her  enquiringly.  The  con- 
ception was  beyond  her. 

162 


Idols 

"  Yes,  I  am  sure  the  Evil  One  must  have  a  hand 
in  it,"  she  said,  at  last,  in  a  tone  of  assent.  "  Cir- 
cumstances are  diabolically  against  him.  Oh,  it  gives 
me  the  horrors  to  think  of  it — and  how  proud  and 
handsome  he  looked  standing  there — as  if  everyone 
was  the  dirt  under  his  feet.  Do  you  know,  dear — 
about  you  and  him — if  he  had  been  one  of  our  people 
I  could  have  fancied " 

She  broke  off.  The  carriage  was  blocked  at  Picca- 
dilly Circus.  A  newspaper  boy  darted  up  to  the  open 
window,  flourishing  an  evening  paper. 

"  Sunnington  murder!  latest  details!  " 

Minna  threw  herself  aside  onto  Mrs.  Bebro  with  a 
piercing  shriek.  There  was  a  rush  of  startled  and 
attracted  bystanders.  Mrs.  Bebro  stretched  across 
Minna  and  pulled  up  the  glass.  The  carriage  moved 
on.  She  took  the  shaking  girl  in  her  arms  and  held 
her  to  her  bosom,  uttering  motherly  words  of  sooth- 
ing. 

But  that  sudden  shriek  was  the  beginning  of  things. 
All  the  rest  of  the  drive  home  she  lay  quite  still,  con- 
tinuing the  comedy  and  the  mystification  of  the  worthy, 
single-minded  woman ;  but  in  order  to  do  so,  she  was 
forced  to  keep  her  gloved  fingers  between  her  teeth. 

"  There,  there,"  continued  Mrs.  Bebro,  petting 
her.  "  Don't  take  on  so,  dear.  We  must  bear  all 
the  afflictions  that  the  Lord  sends  us.  Bear  up,  dear, 
under  them,  like  a  Jewish  maiden.  We  will  put  you 

163 


Idols 

to  bed,  with  something  hot  and  nice  to  take,  and  you 
will  sleep  and  wake  up  strong  to-morrow." 

And  so  the  good  woman  went  on,  seeking  to  heal 
the  bayonetted  body  with  housewifely  sticking-plaster. 

But  the  girl  was  too  far  gone  for  heeding.  The 
new  horrors  were  upon  her.  As  soon  as  they  reached 
the  house  and  had  entered,  she  fled  upstairs  to  her 
room,  with  the  black  things  at  her  heels. 

What  passed  then,  when  alone  in  her  room  she 
crouched  before  her  terror,  it  is  neither  profitable  norjj 
decent  to  say.  She  had  been  strong  up  to  a  certain 
point — the  goal  to  whose  attainment  she  had  set  tk 
marvellous  mechanism  of  nerves  and  fibres.  It 
of  her  sex  not  to  have  calculated  upon  the  beyor 
She  paid  her  sex's  penalty.  The  inevitable  law 
inconsistency  dragged  her  out,  a  wild,  half-mad  thir 
an  hour  later  into  the  street.  A  hansom  cab  chanced 
to  have  just  put  down  a  fare  at  the  next  house.  She 
entered,  flung  an  address  at  the  driver,  and  a  moment 
later  was  being  carried  through  whirling  space. 

The  first  day  of  Hugh's  trial  was  over.  The  streets 
rang  with  it.  Reports  were  flashing  through  the 
kingdom  on  a  thousand  wires.  It  was  the  theme  of 
all  men's  talk.  A  cause  cfftbre  convulsing  a  vast 
society.  The  attorney-general  had  delivered  his  open- 
ing address.  One  or  two  witnesses  had  been  called; 
Minna  Hart  the  last.  The  prisoner's  prospects  were 

164 


Idols 

damnably  black.  His  friends  regarded  each  other 
with  pale  lips.  In  the  quiet  Hertfordshire  townlet 
two  gentle  ladies  clung  together  in  awful  anguish  of 
soul.  The  man  himself  lay  in  Holloway  Gaol  mailed 
in  a  pride  of  steel. 

Irene  and  Gerard  sat  over  their  evening  meal.  She 
had  been  in  court  all  the  gnawing  day,  and  now,  lean- 
ing back  in  her  chair,  dressed  in  a  pink  wrapper,  a 
pretty  coquetry  of  happier  times,  she  looked  almost 
diaphanous  in  her  exhaustion. 

"It  is  no  use  your  not  eating,"  said  Gerard; 
"  you'll  make  yourself  ill." 

She  shook  her  head. 

u  I  can't,  Gerard.  I'll  have  some  beef  tea  or 
something  presently.  You  go  on.  You  are  a  man 
and  have  a  big  body  to  nourish." 

She  helped  him  from  the  dish  in  front  of  her,  choos- 
ing, in  her  wifely  fashion,  the  nicest-looking  morsels, 
and  then  sat  regarding  him  with  her  great  eyes,  ad- 
miring the  strength  of  will  that  could  compel  appetite 
on  so  sorrowful  an  evening.  She  knew  that  rejection 
of  food  was  silly.  But  the  thought  of  it  turned  her  sick. 

"  I  feel  ill,"  she  said.  "  I  always  prided  myself 
on  being  strong-minded  and  above  affected,  feminine 
weaknesses.  But  now — "  she  shrugged  her  shoulders 
and  her  lips  moved  in  a  wan  smile. 

( (  You  had  better  not  come  to  the  court  to-morrow, 
if  you  don't  feel  up  to  it,"  said  Gerard. 

165 


Idols 

u  Oh,  I  should  go  if  I  were  dying  !  '  said 
Irene.  "It  is  the  least  thing  we  can  do — go  and 
cheer  and  keep  the  brave  heart  in  him.  For  with 
all  your  efforts,  dearest,  you  have  been  able  to  do 
nothing." 

'*  There  was   nothing  to  be  done.      I   did  what   I 
could.      Couldn't  even  get  hold  of  your  famous  photo- 
graph.     He    must    have    destroyed    that    too.      So  • 
couldn't  trace  the  original." 

id,  cruel  and  exquisitely  chiselled  face, 
whose  likeness  she  had  seen  in  Hugh's  rooms,  had 
persistently  assumed  the  identity  of  the  woman  for 
whose  sake  he  was  maintaining  this  silence.  Even 
when  she  doubted  the  probability  of  her  conjecture, 
the  mysterious  woman  gradually  revealed  herself  as 
the  possessor  of  those  ophidian  eyes.  They  haunted 
her  night  and  day.  At  last  she  doubted  no  longer. 
That  was  the  woman;  she  had  the  face  of  one  who 
could  well  sec  thir  man  that  loved  her  die  before  her 
eyes.  As  a  forlorn  hope  Irene  had  set  Gerard  upon 
the  track  of  this  photograph.  Hut  it  had  disappeared 
from  Hugh's  rooms.  The  disappearance,  however, 
confirmed  her  certainty. 

There  was  a  silence.  Gerard  went  on  with  his 
dinner  with  the  steadiness  of  a  big-framed  man  who 
must  eat.  Irene  pressed  her  hands  over  her  burning 
eyeballs  and  leant  forward  on  the  table.  She  was 
suffering  greatly. 


Idols 

u  Will  you  be  able  to  bear  it — if  the  worst  comes?  " 
she  asked,  after  a  while. 

"  The  worst  hasn't  come  yet,"  he  replied,  u  so 
it's  no  good  talking  about  it." 

His  brow  clouded.  There  was  a  deep  note  in  his 
wife's  voice  that  troubled  him.  She  noticed  the 
shadow. 

u  I  must  not  pain  you,  Gerard.  I  have  only 
known  Hugh  for  a  few  years.  He  has  been  your 
friend  all  your  life.  I  can't  feel  it  all  as  you  do." 

"  We  don't  mend  matters  by  dwelling  upon  them," 
he  said.  u  Besides — if  there  really  is  a  woman " 

4  i  Oh,  she  must  be  in  hell-fire  now !  ' '  exclaimed 
Irene,  fiercely — "  a  foretaste  of  the  future." 

u  Yes,"  he  assented  grimly,  "  I  shouldn't  like  to 
be  in  her  shoes." 

Another  silence.  This  time  broken  by  the  rattle 
and  sudden  drag  of  a  carriage  drawing  up  at  the  front 
door.  A  moment  later  the  faint  whirr  of  the  electric 
bell  downstairs. 

"  Who  can  that  be?"  cried  Irene,  nervously. 
"  Hush,  dear!  Let  me  listen." 

She  strained  her  ears,  rather  overwrought.  u  It  is 
a  woman — if  it  should  be  the  woman !  " 

"  Oh,  nonsense,  Renie,"  said  Gerard,  with  a  man's 
contempt  for  the  feminine-fanciful. 

The  maidservant  entered. 

u  Miss  Hart,  sir,  wishes  to  speak  to  you." 
167 


Idols 

44  Miss  Hart!  "  echoed  Irene,  with  a  shade  of  dis-  j 
appointment.      Then   succeeded  quick   scorn   for  the 
silliness  of  her  fluttering  hope,  and  natural  interest  in 
the  visitor's  errand.      44  What  can  she  want : 

Gerard  rose  from  the  table  and  went  out  into 
hall.      It  was  a  broad   passage,  softly  carpeted, 
warmed,  furnished   with  oak   settles  and   tables, 
and  there  a  great  indoor  plant,  all  brightly  lighted  fr< 
a  great  central  cluster  of  electric  globes. 

Minna   was   standing    near  the   door.      As  Gerar 
approached,  she  advanced  hurriedly  to  meet  him — h 
veil   off,  her   dark    hair  disordered  over  her  forehead 
her  fashionable,  befeathered  and  beribboned  hat  awr 

44  I  have  come — I  want  to          " 

She   stopped   dead.      Stared   at  him  open-mout 
He  was  somewhat  bewildered. 

Ycs;  "  he  said,  in  lame  enquiry. 

But  she  stood  before  him,  trembling,  uttering  lit 
sharp  noises,  like  a  terrier  wistful  to  make  his 
known,  a  horror  in  her  eyes. 

44  Good  God— what  is  the  matter 

She  could  not  reply.  The  horror  faded  into  me 
helpless  fright.  She  raised  her  hands  and  twitched 
her  fingers,  somewhat  horridly,  in  the  air,  and  con- 
tinued the  little  staccato  moans. 

44  Rcnic!  "  cried  Gerard,  sharply.      44  Renic,  < 
here 

Irene  started  at  her  husband's  summons  and  ran  out 
168 


Idols 

into  the  hall.  But  as  soon  as  the  girl  saw  her,  she 
uttered  a  long,  shivering  moan  and  shrank  against 
the  wall. 

"  What  is  it?" 

u  The  girl's  got  a  fit — hysterics  or  something. 
Said  a  couple  of  words  and  then  gasped  at  me. ' ' 

u  Poor  child,"  said  Irene,  touched. 

She  approached  her,  but  Minna  waved  her  away 
with  unreasoning  terror,  and,  edging  backward,  met  an 
oak  settle  on  which  she  instinctively  sat,  and,  crouch- 
ing, continued  her  inarticulate  cries. 

u  She  evidently  doesn't  want  you,  Renie,"  said 
Gerard.  "  What  the  devil  shall  I  do  with  her?  " 

u  I'll  go  away  for  a  minute — you  must  try  and 
quiet  her.  I'll  send  Jane  to  you.  Then  I'll  come 
back  and  see  if  she'll  bear  me  to  touch  her.  It's 
hysteria.  The  whole  thing  has  been  too  much  for 
her  to-day — poor  little  thing." 

Irene  made  one  more  attempt;  but  seeing  that  her 
ministrations  would  perhaps  render  the  girl  violent,  she 
retired  and  sent  the  maid  in  her  place.  Irene  gone,f 
Minna  grew  less  excited,  but  she  trembled  and  moaned 
and  was  apparently  incapable  of  understanding  words. 
Gerard  arranged  some  cushions,  and  the  servant  ad- 
ministered smelling-salts.  On  trying  to  pull  off  her 
gloves,  so  as  to  chafe  her  hands,  they  found  the  fin- 
gers of  one  hand  swollen.  The  kid  was  cut,  and 
bloody  at  the  edges,  where  she  had  bitten.  Gerard 

169 


Idols 

left  the  two  women,  and,  going  into  the  dining-room, 
explained  matters  hurriedly  to  Irene. 

44  What  the  deuce  is  the  meaning  of  it?  " 

44  She's  overwrought,  poor  child.      Think  what  a 
terrible  ordeal   she  went  through   in   the  witness 
to-day.     Hugh  was  very  friendly  at  The  Lindens,  yc 
knou 

M  Do  you  think  she  was  in  love  with  Hugh?  " 
Perhaps,"  said  Irene,  rather  wearily. 

44  But  what  did  she  want  me  for?  " 

44  All  hysterical,  dear.  She  knew  you  were  Hugh' 
dearest  friend.  Came  to  ask  whether  you  though 
him  likely  to  be  condemned.  Then  broke  down 
You  see  what  poor  silly  stuff  we  women  are  made  of.  '1 

44  At  any  rate,  you  don't   fall   to  gibbering  like 
monkey  at  the  sight  of  a  snake,"  said  Gerard,  ace 
ing  his  wife's  explanation.      44  And  now,  what  are  ' 
to  do  with  her?  " 

44  She  won't  let  me  come  near  her,  or  else  I  would 
nurse  her,"  said  Irene.  44  What  do  you  think 

44  Her  cab  is  still  waiting.  I  could  take  her  home 
to  her  friends.  Would  it  hurt  her?  " 

44  No,"  said  Irene.  44  It  might  do  her  good — the 
drive;  but  you — you  arc  so  tired,  dear." 

44  Oh,  Lord,  I'd  sooner  take  her  away  than  have 
her  fooling  about  here,"  said  Gerard.  And  he  went 
back  again  to  the  hall. 

Thus  Minna  was  restored  to  the  scared  and  anx 


Idols 

Bebros,  who  put  her  to  bed  and  sent  for  a  doctor. 
The  hysteria,  on  whose  brink  she  had  long  been 
trembling,  had  at  last  engulfed  her,  and  hour  by  hour 
she  sank  deeper  into  the  abyss,  where  all  the  horrors 
fought  for  her.  But  the  significance  of  her  foiled 
errand  did  not  reach  her  consciousness. 

And  that  night,  as  Gerard  slept  stertorously  by  her 
side,  Irene  lay  throbbingly  awake,  aching  with  sus- 
pense. The  awful  peril  of  the  man  whom  Gerard 
loved  dulled  her  reminiscence  of  the  strange  visit  of 
the  hysterical  girl.  It  never  crossed  her  mind  that 
the  Lord  had  delivered  her  enemy  into  her  hands. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

IT  was  the  second  day  of  the  trial.      Irene  held  her 
husband's  hand  in  a  nervous  grasp.      They  were  sitting 
together  among    a   crowd   of   well-dressed   men   and 
women,  many  of  them  friends  of  Hugh,  in  the  reserved 
places  on  the  judge's  bench.      Yesterday,  in  her  un-. 
familiarity  with    the   historic  court  of  the  Old  Bailey, 
its  first  aspect  had  shocked  her  sense  of  the  fitness  of 
things.      She  had  vaguely  imagined  a  vast  hall,  stately 
and  imposing  paraphernalia,  all  the  pomp  and  circum- 
stance of  the   law.      But  this  dingy,  murky,  incom- 
modious chamber,  furnished  with  just  the  bare  neces- 
sities for  procedure,  and  crammed  with  perspiring  men, 
seemed  more  like  a  third-rate  auction-room   than   the 
most  solemn  court  of  justice  in  the  land.      It  was  mean 
and  cramped;  even  God's  light  cut  off  from  it  by  thai 
eternal,   blighting    shadow  of   Newgate.      In- 
spacious  galleries  she  had  seen  little  yellow  boxes  by  j 
the  roof,  above  the  dock,  surmounted  by  vague  ag 
glutinated  masses  of  faces.      The  nearness  of  eveiy^l 
thing  to  her,  consequent  upon  the  small  area  and  grea 
depth   of  the   court,  had   affected   her  with   a  strang» 
feeling  of  oppression. 

172 


Idols 

To-day  the  surprise  had  passed;  the  scene  had 
grown  so  intensely  familiar  that  she  seemed  to  have 
borne  its  burden  about  her  for  years,  but  the  feeling 
of  oppression  still  remained.  The  nameless  atmos- 
phere of  the  gaol,  sullen  and  hopeless  and  tainted,  hung 
pall-like  over  everything. 

The  well  of  the  court  was  crowded.  At  narrow 
tables  sat  the  rows  of  barristers  in  wig  and  gown ;  be- 
hind them,  on  the  short  slope  abruptly  terminating 
at  the  whitewashed  wall,  the  pressmen,  behind  whom 
again  more  barristers  and  members  of  the  public,  all 
standing  in  an  insignificant  but  suffocatingly  packed 
crowd.  Below  her,  Irene  saw  the  bobbing  wig  of 
the  clerk  of  arraigns  and  the  bald  head  of  Harroway 
at  the  solicitors'  table.  Beyond,  in  the  front  row  of 
the  lines  of  counsel,  stood  the  attorney-general  exam- 
ining the  witness;  on  her  right  the  judge,  broad- 
wigged,  red-robed,  scratching  loud  with  quill-pen ;  Lord 
Mayor  and  Aldermen  in  civic  robes,  with  their  cynical 
nosegays  of  flowers  in  front  of  them;  on  her  right, 
beneath  the  dim  closed  window,  the  pallid  Jew  butler 
in  the  witness-box.  Opposite,  the  jury,  twelve 
commonplace,  but  hard  and  practical-looking  men, 
as  London  juries  generally  are.  And  next,  the  vast 
square  dock,  glass-panelled,  grim,  overlooked  by  the 
inexorable  clock  face,  which  has  marked  the  last 
hours  of  life's  chances  for  so  many  tortured  men  and 
women;  and  in  the  dock,  guarded  by  the  warder, 


idols 

the  erect  and  somewhat  haughty   figure  of  the  pris- 
oner. 

On  Irene's  arrival  in  court  this  morning,  Harroway 
had  handed  her  a  little  pencilled  note  from  Hugh. 

4t  Bless  you,  dear  Renie,  for  coming  to  cheer  and 
strengthen  me.  Before,  it  was  best  for  me  to  fight  it 
out  alone.  But  now  the  sight  of  you  gladdens  me. 
I  am  doing  everything  for  what  I  consider  the  best. 
Don't  fret.  Gardiner  will  pull  me  through." 

And  when  he  had  entered  the  dock,  his  eyes  had 
travelled  to  hers  with  swift  instinct,  and  for  ma 
seconds  remained  fixed.  Whatever  possibilities 
guilt  may  have  lingered  in  her  mind,  were  swept  away 
in  that  mutual  gaze.  She  saw  his  innocence  deep  in 
her  soul,  and  her  heart  yearned  towards  him. 
knew  now,  past  all  doubt,  that  he  was  risking  his  lif 
to  save  some  wretched  woman's  honour.  The  woman' 
dastardly  silence  was  all  but  inconceivable,  but  the 
man's  chivalry  blazed  before  the  world.  Her  eyes 
had  glistened  with  a  moment's  exultation.  Here  wan 
a  man  of  unfaltering  strength,  a  friend  to  be  thrillingly 
proud  of,  to  die  for,  gladly,  if  need  were.  He  became 
a  hero,  worthy  of  the  devotion  of  others.  The  heroic 
chord  in  her  nature  had  been  struck,  and  its  inarticulate 
music  had  sung  in  her  heart.  She  had  murmured  her 
emotion  to  Gerard,  but  before  he  could  reply,  the 
entrance  of  the  judge  and  the  rising  of  the  court  had 
broken  the  momentary  spell.  Her  anxiety  had  re- 


Idols 

turned  with  a  sickening  rush,  and  Hugh  became  once 
more,  as  all  through  the  aching  hours  of  yesterday, 
the  dear  friend  exposed  to  public  degradation  and  to 
deadly  peril. 

The  examination  of  Samuels  continued.  He  de- 
scribed the  rinding  of  the  body,  the  attitude  in  which 
it  lay,  the  position  of  the  heavy  poker  with  which, 
according  to  the  theory  of  the  prosecution,  the  murder- 
ous blow  was  struck — all  the  harrowing  details  that  had 
been  so  often  laid  before  the  law.  In  a  faltering  voice 
he  narrated  the  history  of  the  evening:  the  merry 
dinner-party,  the  sound  of  the  lively  music  upstairs 
(Minna's  mad  tarantella),  the  angry  words  he  had 
overheard  on  coming  into  his  master's  study,  the  per- 
mission to  go  to  bed,  his  last  sight  of  the  prisoner 
at  ten  minutest  past  eleven,  his  after  meeting  with 
Mr.  Hart  in  the  bedroom  at  five  minutes  to  twelve, 
when  the  latter  had  taken  the  ledger  from  his  bedroom 
safe  and  gone  downstairs  again.  Familiar  as  all  these 
facts  were  to  Irene,  every  fresh  statement  put  them 
in  a  still  more  terrible  light.  They  seemed  to  leave 
Hugh  no  single  avenue  for  escape.  He  was  hedged 
round  by  a  pitiless  fence  of  incontrovertible  testimony. 
Once  Hugh  looked  swiftly  from  the  window  to  her 
and  then  back  again.  The  glance  appealed  to  her  like 
that  of  a  noble  animal  caught  in  a  trap. 

Yet  he  bore  the  ordeal  bravely,  twirling  now  and 
then  a  disdainful  moustache.  It  was  the  man's  nature 


Idols 

to  carry  his  burdens  defiantly.  Minna's  appearance 
in  the  witness-box  the  day  before  had  lashed  him  to  a 
fury  of  pride.  He  would  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths 
than  use  her  contaminated  soul  to  save  his  life. 

At  times  he  looked  round  the  familiar  precincts  with 
a  smile  almost  of  mockery.  The  topsy-turvydom  of 
hiN  position  contained  elements  of  the  grotesque.  The 
central  sphere  of  his  life's  ambitions,  by  some  wizard 
touch,  had  become  the  theatre  of  his  shame.  The 
judge  before  whom  he  had  most  often  pleaded  was 
now  trying  him  as  a  murderer.  The  brother  barristcrtl 
below  were  cordial  acquaintances,  linked  to  him  by 
the  honourable  traditions  of  a  beloved  profession.  The 
scene  shimmered  before  his  eyes  in  whimsical  un-  j 
reality.  But  then,  suddenly,  a  blaze  of  associations! 
would  disclose,  by  lurid  contrast,  the  pathos  of  his 
ruin.  It  was  terribly  real.  Once  a  lump  rose  in  his 
throat,  and  he  steadied  himself  by  the  hand-rail.  On 
the  last  occasion  of  his  presence  in  this  place,  he  had 
delivered  an  impassioned  harangue  on  behalf  of  a  poor? 
trembling  devil  of  an  embezzling  clerk,  who  had 
clutched  at  that  same  hand-rail  for  support.  He  re- 
membered how  he  had  wondered  at  the  craven  spirit 
that  could  thus  make  public  exhibition  of  its  terror. 
The  memory  was  a  whip  to  his  pride. 

The  butler's  evidence  was  black  against  him. 
What  saving  admission  could  Gardiner,  his  counsel, 
ablest  cross-examiner  of  the  day  though  he  was,  get 

1/6 


Idols 

out  of  this  man?  Wearily  he  glanced  at  the  window, 
dwelling  with  a  shiver  on  the  grey,  gaunt  walls  of 
Newgate — the  last  abode  of  the  condemned  man's 
brief  span  of  life,  hiding  the  condemned  cell  and  the 
gallows — and  on  the  irony  of  the  doves  of  Newgate 
courtyard  that  flashed  their  white  wings  in  the  over- 
shadowed air.  It  was  then  that  he  turned  the  quick 
glance  at  Irene  which  she  intercepted  and  interpreted 
as  one  of  appeal.  Gardiner  rose  to  cross-examine  the 
butler.  There  was  little  hope  of  shaking  the  evi- 
dence. 

u  Oh,  God  !  How  my  heart  aches  !  "  said  Irene  to 
Gerard,  pressing  her  hand  to  her  bosom. 

"  Hush  !  "  he  replied.  "  Don't  give  way.  Let  us 
follow  this  closely." 

But  the  meshes  seemed  tighter  drawn  than  ever 
around  Hugh.  Her  nerve  began  to  fail.  Outside 
the  bright  spring  sunshine  flooded  the  sky.  Not  a  ray 
entered  the  murky  court,  where  the  heat  was  oppres- 
sive, the  air  stifling.  The  judge,  notorious  for  his 
horror  of  draughts,  had  caused  all  the  windows  to  be 
closed.  Irene  gasped  for  breath.  A  faint  nausea 
made  her  head  swim.  She  closed  her  eyes  and  leaned 
against  her  husband.  For  a  few  moments  she  lost 
consciousness.  Gerard,  intent  upon  the  evidence, 
remained  unaware  of  her  condition. 

Suddenly  a  confused  murmur  of  voices  aroused  her 
with  a  start.  Samuels  was  leaving  the  witness-box. 
12  177 


Idols 

Gardiner  was  regarding  Hugh  with  a  little  air  of  tri-  I 
umph.  The  mass  of  wigged  heads  below  her  wasfl 
agitated  like  the  backs  of  a  flock  in  motion. 

44  What's   the   matter?      I  wasn't   listening?"   she  '•{ 
whispered. 

Gerard,    not   catching   her   words,  concluded   they 
contained    merely  some   expression   of  emotion,   and 
nodded  to  her  vaguely.     Soon  absorbed  in  the  evidence  I 
of  the  next  witness,  Parsons,  the  porter  at  the  man-  ; 
sion,  Irene  let  her  question  pass  and  forgot  the  inci- 
dent. 

Thus  a  material  point  for  Hugh's  defence,  an  ad- 
mission  by  Samuels  that  he  had  heard  a  noise  like  the! 
slamming  of  the   front   door  at  half-past  eleven,  the  I 
hour  when  Hugh  claimed  to  have  left  the  house,  had 
escaped  her  cognisance. 

The  only  point  in  his  client's  favour  that  Gardiner 
elicited  from  the  porter,  was  the  statement  that  the 
brown  paper  parcel  which  the  prisoner  was  carrying 
on  the  morning  of  the  murder  was  neatly  tied  with 
string,  ami  in  no  wise  resembled  a  hastily  wrapped  up 
bundle  of  documents. 

Other   witnesses   followed.      Again    Irene  felt   the 
deadly  faintness  coming  over  her.      It   was   nature's 
penalty  for  insufficient  food,  sleep  and  air.      Sh 
gled  against  it  with  all  her  strength. 

hall    I   take  you   out?"  asked  Gerard,  noticing 
her  pallor. 

178 


Idols 

She  shook  her  head.  She  would  sit  through  it  to 
the  end.  Never  had  she  felt  such  fierce  contempt  for 
her  sex's  weakness  as  then.  It  was  maddening  to 
feel  her  nerve  yielding  and  her  brain  growing  dizzy. 
Was  she  going  to  follow  the  example  of  the  shallow, 
hysterical  girl  of  last  night?  Were  all  women  con- 
stituted alike — to  snap  like  lath  at  the  first  serious 
strain?  The  thought  was  abhorrent.  For  over  an 
hour  she  sat  there  scarcely  heeding  the  proceedings, 
her  whole  mind  concentrated  upon  the  efforts  to  retain 
her  consciousness.  And  during  this  hour  Mrs.  Par- 
sons had  stated  that  she  had  found  among  the  pris- 
oner's linen  a  sleeping  suit  which  had  been  missing  for 
some  time,  and  Israel  Hart's  confidential  clerk  had 
sworn  to  the  valueless  nature  of  the  ,£5,000  security. 

The  endless  cross-fire  of  question  and  answer  drew 
to  a  conclusion.  The  charge  was  read,  and  the  coun- 
sel for  the  prosecution  submitted  his  case  to  the  judge. 

Gardiner  rose.  Irene  with  a  great  effort  regained 
her  self-control,  and  regarded  him  anxiously. 

"  I  call  no  witnesses  for  the  defence,  my  lord," 
said  he. 

Irene,  aghast,  uttered  a  sharp  cry  of  pain  and  dis- 
may. To  her  mind,  unversed  in  legal  methods,  this 
proceeding  seemed  like  capitulation.  Was  Gardiner 
going  to  make  no  show  of  fight  for  his  friend's  life? 
She  questioned  her  husband  in  a  fever  of  anxiety. 

"  He  is  relying  on  his  speech  to-morrow  to  dcvalu- 
179 


Idols 

ate  the  evidence.      What  witnesses  can  he  bring  for- 
ward? " 

But  Irene  was  not  reassured.  She  lay  back,  with 
white  lips  and  panting  bosom.  The  halter  was  already 
round  Hugh's  neck.  To  her  strained  eyes  his  fea- 
tures seemed  to  have  undergone  an  awful  change  since 
the  morning.  Her  vision  invested  him  with  imaginary 
haggardness  and  deathlike  pallor.  Again  she  felt  faint 
and  closed  her  eyes. 

When  she  opened  them  again,  the  attorney-general 
was  addressing  the  jury.  Now  he  had  more  scope  for 
emotion  than  in  his  opening.  He  spoke  of  the  pris- 
oner's position  as  a  barrister,  of  the  terrible  pain  it  had 
been  to  him  to  lead  this  prosecution.  (All  the  ur 
reasoning  feminine  in  Irene  blazed  into  inward 
proach.  It  was  hypocrisy,  baseness,  a  hireling's 
part.  No  noble  or  generous  nature  could  have  under- 
taken the  task.)  He  spoke  of  duty,  of  the  law, 
the  necessity  of  sacrificing  private  feelings  to 
interests  of  justice.  And  justice  compelled  him 
point  out  the  prisoner  as  a  man  guilty  of  a  terrible 
crime.  He  proceeded  to  the  evidence,  recapitulate^ 
the  details.  Constructed  a  romance  of  evil  passions. 
Drew  a  picture  of  the  imaginary  scene,  the  quamej 
over  the  ,£5,000,  the  insulting  word,  the  dastardly 
and  fatal  blow. 

Hugh,  leaning  over  the  railing  of  the  dock,  gazed 
at  him  intently,  with  set  teeth.  Throughout  all  the 

rto 


Idols 

sordid  commonplaces  of  the  trial,  he  had  maintained 
his  bearing  of  scorn.  But  now  the  touch  of  a  lurid 
eloquence  gripped  his  nature.  His  breath  came  hard 
and  fast,  in  speechless  indignation  and  horror  at  the 
vivid  fable. 

The  crowded  court  was  deathly  still.  Irene  gripped 
her  husband's  hand,  looking  now  at  the  denunciatory 
attitudes  of  the  speaker,  now  at  the  intense  steel  of 
the  denounced  man's  eyes,  now  at  the  set  faces  of  the 
jury  as  they  sat  under  the  spell  of  the  fierce  oratory. 

( (  Gerard — they  will  kill  him.  I  see  condemnation 
in  their  eyes,"  she  whispered,  hoarsely. 

u  Damn  them,"  he  answered,  carried  away  by  the 
excitement,  u  I  believe  they  will." 

u  Can  nothing  human  save  him?  " 

u  I  would  give  ten  years  of  my  life." 

She  tightened  her  clasp  on  his  great  hand  by  way 
of  sympathy  and  acknowledgment.  A  little  sound  of 
sobbing  was  heard.  It  came  from  a  lady  next  but  one 
to  Irene — Mrs.  Gardiner — the  wife  of  Hugh's  counsel 
and  friend.  Irene  was  dry-eyed.  Suddenly  she  felt 
strong,  with  her  young  blood  thrilling  through  her 
veins.  Again  she  whispered. 

"  Gerard — would  you  give  all  you  held  most  dear 
in  the  world  ? ' ' 

u  Of  course,"  he  replied. 

The  sonorous  voice  went  on. 

"  The  defence  have  called  no  witnesses.  There 
181 


Idols 

are  none  to  call.  Let  them  prove  that  the  prisoner 
was  elsewhere  between  eleven  o'clock  and  seven  on 
that  fatal  night— even  between  one  and  five,  the  limits 
set  by  the  medical  evidence — and  the  case  falls  to  the 
ground.  But  they  cannot  do  so.  It  has  been  hinted 
that  a  woman's  honour  is  in  question.  That  will  be 
urged  in  his  defence.  But  does  the  woman  live  who 
is  so  vile,  so  despicable  as  to  let  her  reputation  stand 
in  the  way  of  saving  an  innocent  man  from  the  most! 
shameful  of  deaths5  It  is  unthinkable.  Human 
ture  does  not  sink  to  such  degradation  of  coward ic 
When  that  blow  was  struck  the  prisoner  was  in 
woman's  arms/* 

He  paused  to  take  breath.  There  was  just  a  fla 
of  silence.  And  then  a  woman's  voice  broke  out  ir 
a  hoarse  cry,  as  if  the  words  tore  their  way  through 
gasping  throat. 

He  was.     In  mine!" 

Another  silence;    this  time  longer;   one  of  dur 
bewilderment.      Every  eye  was  straining  at  the 
quivering  woman  who  stood  with  burning  eyes  ar 
parted  lips,  throwing  down  her  defiance.      Then  swif 
reaction  swept  through  the  assembly.      The  suddenL 
emotional,  tragic,  in  a  time  of  strain,  brings  elemental, 
inarticulate    sounds   from    men's   hearts.      Confusiofl 
of  voices  reigned.      Some  broke   into  silly    laughter. 
Gardiner  leapt  to  his  feet,  quivering  like  a  race-horse, 
gesticulating   with    his   hands,  uttering   idle   words   of  I 

182 


Idols 

ipeal  that  were  lost  in  the  clamour.  Gerard  Merriam 
too  was  standing,  had  seized  his  wife's  arm. 

u  Have  you  gone  mad?  "  he  shouted,  hoarsely. 

He  wrenched  her  down  to  her  seat.  She  shook  off 
his  grasp  and  sprang  up  again,  facing  the  court.  Be- 
fore her  will,  his  gave  way.  He  sat  and  gnawed  at 
his  ringers  in  a  frenzy  of  agitation. 

The  first  amazement  had  held  Hugh  speechless. 
For  a  moment  he  stared  at  her  stupidly.  Then  amid 
the  hubbub  he  burst  into  passionate  cries  of  denial. 
He  would  have  leaped  from  the  dock,  had  not  iron 
arms  encircled  him  and  rough  voices  in  his  ear  com- 
manded silence.  He  obeyed,  his  heart  thumping  like 
a  piston-rod.  Then  Gardiner  and  Harroway  met  by 
the  side  of  the  dock.  Hugh  leaned  over  the  rail,  at 
once  engaged  in  excited  discussion. 

4  (  You  are  mad !  ' '  cried  Gardiner,  at  last,  in  his 
ear.  "  I  shall  save  your  life  and  you  can  shoot  me 
afterwards  if  you  like. ' ' 

The  solicitor  and  himself  returned  to  their  places. 
The  judge  thundered  for  order.  The  hubbub  waned 
to  a  murmur.  He  threatened  to  clear  the  court.  A 
scuffle  near  the  door  drew  general  attention  to  the  fact 
of  an  ejection.  Peace  was  restored.  Men  wiped 
streaming  foreheads  and  looked  about  with  eager  eyes. 

Gardiner,  with  wig  awry,  had  the  first  word. 

"  My  lord,  I  beg  permission  to  call  that  lady  as  a 
witness." 

183 


Idols 

u  I  protest,  my  lord!"  cried  Hugh  in  torture  of 
soul.  4t  Her  tale  is  a  lie.  I  will  not  have  her  com- 
mit perjury  for  my  sake." 

The  judge  rebuked  him.  The  management  of  the 
case  was  in  the  hands  of  counsel.  They  only  could 
be  heard. 

44  But  for  God's  sake,  my  lord?"  cried  Hugh 
again. 

Sternly  the  judge  threatened  forcible  measures. 
Hugh  cast  a  wild,  despairing  glance  around  the  hush 
and  wondering  court,  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  passic 
ate  gesture  of  appeal  to  Irene,  who  stood  transfigur 
before  him,  and  then  with  a  groan  sank  into  his  chair 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms.  He  was  powerless. 

The  prisoner  being  effectually  silenced,  the  judge 
bent  his  heavy  brows  upon  Irene. 

Will  you  repeat  that  statement  on  oath?  " 

She  nodded  her  head  thrice  in  affirmation  before  she 
could  articulate  the  4t  yes." 

There  was  a  consultation  between  the  judge  and 
the  attorney-general.  The  latter  had  no  objection  to 
the  request  of  the  defence.  Irene  stepped  into  the 
witness-box.  She  took  the  oath,  shivered,  and  shot 
a  swift  glance  of  appeal  at  her  husband.  He  sat  glar- 
ing at  her  like  a  man  stupefied,  his  eyes  crossed  in  a 
kind  of  glazed  squint,  his  body  bent  forwards, 
hiring  at  his  fingers. 

The    self-accusing   cry  had    sprung    from  resistless 
184 


Idols 

impulse.  The  heroic  instinct,  awakened  earlier,  had 
been  clamouring  in  the  darkness.  It  rose  to  the  light- 
ning flash  of  suggestion.  Hugh  was  doomed.  Here 
was  a  splendid  rescue.  It  had  been  a  moment  of 
tumultuous  rapture.  Simultaneously  had  come  the 
conviction  jf  Gerard's  acquiescence,  his  equal  glad- 
ness to  sacrifice  his  honour  for  his  friend's  life.  Had 
not  Hugh  once  faced  death  for  Gerard?  Had  not 
Gerard  just  said  that  he  would  give  all  he  held  most 
dear  in  the  world  to  save  him?  It  had  been  an  ex- 
quisite moment  of  faith,  during  which  the  world  had 
grown  young  again  and  radiant  deeds  were  the  com- 
monplaces of  life.  All  had  crowded,  in  the  instant, 
upon  her  mind.  And  the  words  had  gone  from  her, 
she  scarce  knew  how.  They  had  sounded  strange  in 
her  ears.  But  the  silence,  the  cold,  dispassionate  ac- 
cents of  the  judge  brought  to  the  surface  her  instincts 
as  a  nineteenth-century  woman,  cultivated  under  a 
thousand  complex  conditions.  She  realised  the  gravity 
of  the  step  she  was  taking.  All  her  faintness  had 
gone  under  the  magic  of  her  inspiration,  but  the  great 
and  sudden  effort  to  concentrate  her  intellectual  powers 
checked  the  thrill  in  her  veins.  To  be  heroic  in  cold 
blood  is  the  highest  grade.  She  answered  calmly. 
Her  questioner  was  less  collected  than  herself. 

Only  a  woman  could  have  committed  the  splendid 
perjury.      Under  examination  she  told  with  faultless 
precision  the  story  of  the  fabulous  adultery;  the  pris- 
185 


Idols 

oner's  Orcstian  friendship  with  her  husband;  his  love 
for  her  before  her  marriage;  the  later  and  guilty  pas- 
sion on  her  own  side ;  the  rare  chance  of  that  fatal 
night  when  her  husband  was  in  Edinburgh.  Solemnly 
she  swore  that  the  prisoner  arrived  at  her  house  at  a 
quarter  to  twelve  and  stayed  there  until  the  morning, 
leaving  just  before  the  servants  were  astir.  Her  man- 
ner gave  the  story  the  seal  of  truth. 

The  attorney-general  cross-examined.  In  no  par- 
ticular could  he  shake  her  statement.  Why  had 
not  come  forward  before?  She  urged  the  scandal, 
pain  to  her  husband,  the  overmastering  hope,  grown 
to  conviction,  that  the  evidence  against  the  prisoner 
was  too  slight  to  harm  him. 

44  How  did  he  enter  your  house?  " 

4(  He  had  a  latch-key  always  in  his  possession." 

14  Was  this  the  first  time  it  had  been  used  for  this 
purpose?  " 

She  set  her  teeth  and  answered,  44  No."          irdir 
re-examined.      No  third  party  was  aware  of  the  exis 
ence   of   this   liaison.      The    utmost    precaution    an 
secrecy  had   been   maintained.      Was   her  husband 
court?     Yes.      She  went  down  the  steps  and  back  to 
her  place  like  one  in  a  dream.      Gerard  remained 
tionless  by  her  side,  as  if  unconscious  of  her  presence. 

Gardiner,  wishing  to  have  corroborative  evidence,  4 
sought  permission  to  call  Merriam.  The  latter 
assented,  went  into  the  witness-box.  Irene's  heart 

186 


Idols 

fluttered  faintly  with  happiness.  Gerard  had  accepted 
the  sacrifice.  He  would  play  his  part  as  she  had  done 
hers.  Yet  his  face  was  clouded  and  heavy  and  he 
answered  doggedly,  witTi  the  air  of  a  man  who  has 
formed  a  resolve  in  the  caverns  of  his  soul. 

He  was  absent  in  Edinburgh  on  the  night  in  ques- 
tion. For  some  time  past  he  had  been  uneasy  as 
regards  his  wife's  relations  with  Colman.  The  revela- 
tion was  not  an  absolute  surprise  to  him.  Colman 
had  been,  for  many  years,  almost  a  member  of  his 
household.  By  virtue  of  the  intimacy  he  possessed  a 
latch-key.  No  further  questions  were  put.  The 
opposite  side  declined  to  cross-examine.  Gerard,  look- 
ing neither  to  right  nor  left,  walked  out  of  the  court. 

Irene  was  left  alone.  She  could  not  understand 
Gerard's  neglect.  Surely  he  meant  her  to  follow. 
She  rose  and  took  a  sweeping  survey  of  the  scene. 
Counsel  were  whispering  eagerly.  The  jury  crowded 
together  in  animated  discussion,  the  front  row  lean- 
ing over  the  backs  of  the  seats.  Many  eyes  were 
fixed  admiringly  upon  herself.  The  judge,  seen  in 
obscured  profile,  was  turning  over  his  notes.  The  air 
still  seemed  impregnated  with  the  odour  of  the  gaol. 
Hugh  sat  in  the  dock,  his  face  still  buried  in  his  arms, 
in  an  attitude  of  supreme  dejection.  And  behind  him 
stood  his  blue-habited  imperturbable  guards.  Then, 
with  bowed  head,  she  hurried  across  the  court,  leaving 
by  the  door  through  which  Gerard  had  disappeared. 

187 


Idols 

He  was  not  outside,  in  the  witnesses'  lobby,  wait- 
ing for  her  as  she  had  expected.  She  enquired  of  the 
policeman  on  duty.  He  had  seen  him  pass,  pointed 
out  the  way  he  had  gone.  She  followed  his  direc- 
tions, found  herself  in  the  courtyard.  Gerard  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  She  hung  about  for  a  while, 
went  outside  and  walked  up  and  down  the  hurrying 
pavement,  waited  again  by  the  entrance.  But  no 
Gerard.  Disappointed  and  anxious,  she  retraced  her 
steps,  up  worn  bleak  stairs,  through  gloomy  corridors, 
and  finally  lost  herself  completely.  But  she  hurried 
on  with  downcast  eyes.  At  last  she  arrived  at  an 
entrance  guarded  by  a  policeman.  It  was  not  the 
door  with  which  she  was  familiar.  A  sudden  failing 
seized  her.  She  could  not  return  to  her  seat  and  pre- 
sent herself  alone  before  the  gaze  of  all  those  mer 
The  valiantest  of  women  has  small  feminine  cowa 
ices,  which  she  does  not  seek  to  overcome.  To  leav 
the  precincts  was  equally  impossible.  She  resolved 
wait,  and  walked  bravely  up  and  down  the  lobby. 
few  patient  figures  of  men  and  women  were  sitting  by  j 
the  wail.  Scarcely  speculating  who  these  might  be, 
she  sat  down  finally  by  an  old  man,  poorly  clad,  whoj 
was  leaning  forward,  nrc  chin  supported  on  his  hands,] 
regarding  the  pavement  with  lack-lustre  eyes.  Then 
for  the  first  time  she  was  able  to  think  with  son 
coherence  of  the  stupendous  nature  of  the  deed  sY 
had  just  committed.  She  put  her  ungloved  hand 

1*8 


Idols 

over  her  burning  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  the  scene  that 
had  blazed  before  them  a  few  moments  ago.  The 
words  of  the  counsel,  her  own  replies,  reverberated 
distinct  in  her  ears.  She  would  have  given  a  year  of 
her  life  for  Gerard's  protecting  presence. 

So  absorbed  was  she  that  she  did  not  hear  a  rough 
voice  call  out  a  strange  name,  nor  notice  the  old  man 
by  her  side  rise  in  weary  obedience  to  the  summons. 
When,  later,  she  withdrew  her  hands  from  her  face, 
she  did  not  heed  his  absence.  Now  and  then  a  bar- 
rister or  a  document-laden  clerk  hurried  past  her.  She 
waited  in  a  torture  of  anxiety.  At  last  the  policeman 
approached  and  asked  her  if  she  was  a  witness  in  this 
case.  Her  reply  gave  him  a  clue  to  her  interest.  He 
smiled  indulgently.  This  was  the  witnesses'  lobby  of 
the  Recorder's  Court.  The  Sunnington  case  was  being 
tried  in  the  chief  court,  before  the  judge;  just  the  other 
end  of  the  Old  Bailey.  Irene  stamped  her  foot  with 
vexation.  Suspense  had  made  her  lose  count  of  time. 
It  seemed  as  if  she  had  been  absent  for  hours.  What 
had  happened?  She  must  know.  And  here  she  had 
been  waiting,  like  a  fool,  in  a  wrong  part  of  the  building. 

u  Direct  me  to  the  door  the  prisoner  will  come 
out  by." 

The  policeman  was  still  indulgent. 

"  If  he's  sentenced  or  the  case  is  adjourned,  he'll 
go  down  the  dock  and  you  won't  see  him.  If  he  gets 
off  he  may  leave  by  the  main  exit/' 

189 


Idols 

44  That's  what  I  want,"  said  Irene. 

He  gave  her  the  necessary  directions.    She  hurried 
away,  half  running.      At   last   she  had   perceived  the 
cause  of  her  error.      The  chief  court  was  only  up  one 
flight  of  stairs,  and  she  had  passed  it  by  in  her  agita-J 
tion.      The  door  and  its  guardian  appeared  in  sight.  \ 
But  at  that  moment  it  was  thrown  open  and  a  stream 
of  men  issued  forth.      The  recognition  of  her  was  a 
signal  for  wild  cheering  and  a  rush  towards  her.      She 
turned  to  fly.      Someone    overtook    her,  grasped  her 
arm.      It  was  a  young  barrister,  an  acquaintance. 

44  Let  me  take  you  out  quietly.  You  will  be 
mobbed  by  well-meaning  enthusiasts." 

The  news  that  she  was  in  front  had  spread.  There 
was  a  tumult  of  cheers  behind  her.  She  pressed  on 
with  her  guide.  Her  brain  reeled.  She  dared  scarcely 
ask  the  reason  of  the  demonstration.  In  this  first 
moment  of  confusion,  it  was  merely  significant  of  her 
own  popularity.  The  thought  was  burning  fire.  A 
few  steps  brought  them  into  the  counsels'  and  solicit- 
ors' lobby,  at  the  end  of  which  was  quiet.  The  young 
man  looked  at  her  glowingly. 

44  Thank  God!     They  might  have  hanged  an  iih?< 
nocent  man." 

She  stared  at  him  only  half  comprehending. 

44  Yes.      Don't  you  know?      Of  course — he  I 
quitted — your  evidence " 

The  young   fellow  stopped  short,  blushed — he  wa 
170 


Idols 

a  fair  youth  and  his  white  wig  made  him  fairer — 
realising  the  delicate  ground. 

«  Yes — my  evidence?"  replied  Irene,  pausing. 
u  I  have  been  away  from  the  court." 

"  It  knocked  the  prosecution  all  of  a  heap.  Hanna 
threw  up  the  case.  The  judge  directed  a  formal  ver- 
dict. Thank  God!" 

"Then  he  is  free!" 

She  staggered  under  the  realisation,  leaned  for  a 
moment  against  the  wall.  From  a  little  distance  off 
came  the  noise  of  voices  and  footsteps  of  people  leav- 
ing the  court.  Twos  and  threes  of  barristers  passed 
by  and  eyed  her  curiously. 

"  Let  me  put  you  into  a  cab,"  said  the  young  man. 

u  Thank  you — yes,"  she  faltered. 

Taking  his  arm,  faint  and  dizzy  and  half-closing 
her  eyes,  she  allowed  him  to  lead  her  by  a  staircase 
unused  by  the  public,  to  the  street.  As  she  entered 
the  cab  a  few  persons  recognised  her,  and  set  up  a 
cheer  and  waved  their  hats.  The  cab  drove  off.  The 
ceaseless,  roaring  traffic  of  Holborn  seemed  the  phan- 
tasmagoria of  a  strange  world. 


191 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HEARTSICK  with  longing  for  Gerard,  she  opened 
her  front  door.  A  maidservant  met  her  in  the  hall. 

(4  Has  your  master  come  home?  " 

"  He  has  been  in  and  gone  out  again,  ma'am.  He 
told  me  to  let  you  have  this  note  when  you  arrived." 

She  handed  her  mistress  the  brass  letter-tray  where 
it  was  King.  Irene  tore  open  the  envelope  with 
shaking  fingers.  It  contained  a  hasty  line  scribbled 
in  pencil. 

"  I  am  going  away  for  the  night.  Will  see  you  in 
the  morning.  G.  M." 

She  staggered  as  if  he  had  struck  her.  What  did  it 
mean?  It  was  difficult  enough  to  grasp  the  fact;  to 
pierce  to  the  underlying  motive  was  beyond  her  pow- 
ers. A  nameless  fear  assailed  her.  How  could  she 
live  alone  through  all  the  hours  until  to-morrow  morn- 
ing? She  stared  at  the  words  until  they  danced  before 
her  eyes.  The  fact  was  plain.  In  this  hour  of  her 
most  awful  need  of  him,  he  had  gone  from  her  side. 
Her  dismay  was  child-like  in  its  piteousness. 

192 


Idols 

"  Did  your  master  take  any  luggage  with  him?  " 
she  asked,  steadying  her  voice. 

u  Just  his  dressing-bag,"  replied  the  maid;  then 
breaking  through  the  restraint  she  had  imposed  upon 
herself:  "And,  oh,  ma'am! — Mr.  Colman ?" 

u  He  is  acquitted,  Jane,"  said  Irene. 

The  maid  burst  into  tears,  after  the  manner  of  her 
class.  Suspense  had  been  great  in  the  kitchen,  where 
Hugh  Colman  had  been  invested  with  mythical  excel- 
lences. The  cook,  upon  whom  he  had  never  set  eyes, 
had  been  weeping  intermittently  all  day  long.  A '  for- 
tiori,  the  naturalness  of  the  emotions  of  the  parlour- 
maid who  had  waited  upon  him  at  table  and  helped 
him  on  with  his  overcoat.  It  is  odd  how  readily 
domestic  servants  receive  the  impression  of  a  guest's 
personality  and  how  genuinely  their  sympathy  or  antip- 
athy may  be  aroused.  Perhaps,  like  silly  women, 
they  viewed  Hugh  in  too  heroic  a  light — but,  never- 
theless, the  girl's  outburst  was  sincere.  Irene,  touched 
for  the  moment,  forgot  her  anxiety.  But  it  returned 
swiftly  as  soon  as  she  was  alone.  She  twisted  the 
paper  nervously  in  her  hands,  sat  down  upon  one  of 
the  oak  settles  and  tried  to  reason  away  the  fear. 
Presently  she  rose  and  went  upstairs  to  her  room. 
She  was  desperately  tired.  She  unpinned  her  veil, 
made  a  weary  pretence  of  rolling  it  up,  and  then  sank 
down  helpless  on  the  edge  of  the  bed,  her  hands  in 
her  lap. 

13  193 


Idol- 

In  this  relaxed  moral  condition  a  woman  i 
ly,  if  a  sympathetic  arm,  man's  or  woman's,  is  put 
around   her.      When   she   is   alone,   however,  crying] 
seems  futile  and  undignified;   she   arises  soon  after- 
wards,  as   Irene  did,   and   mechanically  changes   her 
dress   for  a   comfortable   wrapper,   freshens   her  fzcci 
with   the  trivial   comfort  of  a  powder-puft's  softness, 
tidies  her  hair,  with  dull,  half-observant  glances  in  her 
mirror,  puts  tau  de  cologne  upon  a  clean  handkerchief 
and  wearily  hangs  up  her  discarded  garments.      The 
lighter  feminine  instincts  float  like  straws  upon  the 

face,   beneath   which   other  things   have   sunk    for| 
very  heaviness. 

After   this   she  went   downstairs    to    the 
room,  whither  Jane  brought  her  an  egg  beaten  up  it] 
brandy.      The  girl   hung  about,  eager  for  a  word  ofl 
detail    concerning    the    trial.      The    expectation    was! 
pathetic,  considering  its  impossibility  of  fulfillment,  i 
Irene  dismissed  her  gently,  and  took  the  stimulant,  of Y 
which  she  stood  in  great  need.      And  then  she  thought, 
hard  and  anxiously. 

A  dreadful  sense  of  loneliness  crept  over  her,  even 
more  intense  than  that  which  she  had  once  felt  before, 
when  she  had  gone  on  board  the  steamer  at  Bombay, 
journeying  from  one  grave  to  another.  It  seemed  im-" 
possible  that  Gerard  should  not  be  returning.  She  had 
never  craved  him  so  much  as  in  this  hour  of  crisis. 
Again  she  read  the  now  crumpled  sheet  containing  his 

194 


Idols 

curt  message.  Her  blind  faith  in  his  acquiescence  in 
the  sacrifice  was  rudely  shaken.  He  had  gone  from 
her  in  a  passion  of  anger.  There  was  no  other  solu- 
tion. She  felt  sick  with  doubt  and  dread.  Her  eyes 
wandered  round  the  room,  trying  to  derive  assurance 
of  his  return  from  the  familiar,  external  signs  of  his 
occupancy.  His  fishing-rods  stood  in  a  corner  in 
their  neat  canvas  cases.  His  cartridge-belt  hung  fes- 
tooned beneath  a  hunting-trophy  on  the  wall,  sur- 
mounted by  a  fox's  mask.  Opposite,  by  the  mantel- 
piece, stretched  his  overflowing  pipe-rack.  On  a 
little  table  by  the  side  of  the  great  armchair,  whose 
well-worn  seat  showed  the  impress  of  his  huge  limbs, 
still  remained  his  pipe  of  the  morning,  with  the  ashes 
half  fallen  out.  His  slippers  lay  beneath  the  chair. 
Irene  looked  at  them  pathetically,  and  again  felt  the 
very  miserable  desire  to  cry.  The  trivial  generally 
tends  the  flood-gates  of  tears.  In  the  horrors  of  a 
siege  women  who  have  viewed,  brave-eyed,  men 
butchered  before  their  faces,  have  been  known  to 
break  down  at  the  sight  of  a  wrecked  canary-cage. 

Presently  Jane  came  in  with  a  letter.  A  commis- 
sionnaire  had  brought  it  and  was  waiting  in  the  hall 
for  an  answer.  Irene  took  it  from  the  girl's  hand 
with  a  quick  heart-throb.  From  Gerard,  doubtless 
explanatory — perhaps  utterly  reassuring.  But  as  soon 
as  her  eyes  fell  upon  the  envelope  she  recognised 
Hugh's  writing,  and  felt  miserably  disappointed.  The 


[dob 

letter  was  addressed  to  "Mr.  and   Mrs.    Merriam." 
It  ran: 

"  DEAREST  ONES — The  terrible  price  you  have  paid 
for  my  life  makes  me  shrink  from  crossing  your  throh- 
old  unbidden.  For  such  a  deed  it  is  idle  to  talk  of 
gratitude.  Send  for  me  and  I  shall  come.  But  God 
knows  what  I  can  say  to  you  both.  HUGH." 

She  sat  for  a  few  moments  staring  before  her.      Jane 
stood  by  respectful  and  dutiful,  holding  the  brass  salver 
by  her  side.     Suddenly  Irene  rose,  and,  standing  at  her 
writing-table,  dashed  off  a  hasty  line.      They  would 
have   paid  the  price   fifty  times  over    for   his    sake.] 
She  would  send  for  him  soon,  but  to-night  she  was! 
cxhai^ted.      He  must  be  bright  and  happy.      The  bond 
between  the  three  was  only  firmer  and  dearer.      The 
maid  took  the  note  to  the  waiting  messenger  and  Irene] 
sank  again  into  her  chair  by  the  ti 

She  felt  unspeakably  grateful  to  Hugh  for  writing. 
How  could  she  have  received  him?  How  explained 
Gerard's  absence?  The  thought  of  a  meeting  was  M 
burning  fire  in  cheeks  and  bosom.  Fortunately  it  was 
avoided.  She  thanked  the  tact  that  always  underlay 
and  checked  Hugh's  impulses.  Another  man,  equally 
generous,  would  have  rushed  to  throw  himself  at  her 
feet. 

The  evening  wore  on.  She  sat  down  alone  to  the 
inevitable  dinner  and  forced  herself  to  eat.  Once  she 

196 


Idols 

:aught  Jane  looking  at  her  curiously.  The  details  of 
:he  great  trial's  sensational  finish  had  reached  Sunning- 
on  and  were  the  theme  of  the  servants'  hall.  She 
•ead  amused  speculation  and  virtuous  approbation, 
;ubtly  mingled,  in  the  girl's  glance.  She  flushed  miser- 
ibly,  in  spite  of  effort,  and  her  throat  contracted  at  the 
norsel  she  was  about  to  swallow.  Perhaps  her  ser- 
vants would  give  her  notice.  The  ironical  pettiness 
)f  the  thought  faintly  amused  her  and  restored  self- 
:omposure.  The  meal  over,  she  returned  to  the 
;moking-room  fire  and  nursed  her  heart-ache  till  bed- 
:ime. 

Hugh's  letter,  often  re-read,  awakened  a  desire  for 
lis  companionship,  vague  and  scarcely  formulated  as 
in  idea.  Yet  she  would  have  shrunk  in  strange  terror 
it  his  approach.  Womanlike,  she  longed  fora  tender 
yord  or  gentle  touch,  and  strove  to  materialise  it  out 
>f  Hugh's  letter.  And  she  was  conscious  of  a  little 
isappointment,  so  little  that  she  would  not  admit  it 
o  her  reason,  in  the  joint  address.  Her  reason  ad- 
nired  the  delicacy  with  which  Hugh  had  conveyed 
lis  appreciation  of  their  combined  purpose,  but  her 
voman's  instinct  felt  the  individual  lack.  Ever  so 
ubtle  an  acknowledgment  of  her  separate  action  would 
lave  been  balm  to  the  bruised  spirit. 

She  slept  fitfully,  was  up  betimes,  disregarding  a 
•acking  headache.  Gerard  would  come.  She  would 
lave  speech  with  him,  learn  the  unimagined  worst. 


[dob 

No  letter  from  him.  Her  pile  of  correspondence,  Ik 
envelopes  briefly  surveyed,  remained  unopened.  She 
had  not  the  heart  to  read  letters.  All  her  throbbing 
thoughts  were  Gerard's.  He  was  deeply  angered.  She 
would  humble  herself.  Yet  human  ccrtaintv  had 
never  been  so  radiantly  absolute  as  hers  had  been  in 
the  oneness  of  their  sacrifice,  when  she  had  offered 
up  his  honour  and  her  virtue.  She  could  come  to  no 
conclusion. 

For  an  hour  she  stood  at  the  dining-room  window, 
which  looked  upon  the  little  circular  drive  in  front  of, 
the  house,  watching  for  her  husband's  arrival.  Her 
every  fibre  yearned  and  dreaded.  At  last  he  appeared, 
swung  open  the  gate  and  strode  in  with  a  quick  glance 
at  the  pale  face  behind  the  window.  Irene's  hand 
flew  to  her  heart.  She  stepped  back,  pierced  by  the 
glance,  and  waited.  In  another  moment  Gerard  was 
in  the  room.  He  clapped  his  hat  on  the  table  and 
advanced  a  pace  or  two,  fixing  her  with  his  shifty  blue 
eves. 

4  *  Now,  let  us  have  it  out  at  once.     What  the  devil 
have  you  got  to  say  for  yourself?  " 

The  look,  the  tone,  the  insult  dashed  upon  her  like 
a  douche  of  icy  water  upon  an  hysterical  girl.  She 
drew  herself  up,  quivering,  with  a  flash  in  her  eyes. 

"  You  are  forgetting  yourself,  Gerard." 

Yet  an  instant  afterwards  she  softened  and  humbled 
herself  as  a  woman  does  towards  the  man  she  has  been 

198 


Idols 

yearning  for.  She  went  to  him  with  outstretched 
arms,  pleading  in  her  face. 

4<  Forgive  me,  dear!     Forgive  me!  " 

He  thrust  her  away,  rather  roughly. 

"  Don't  make  a  scene.  I  hate  it.  That's  why 
I  stayed  away,  so  as  to  put  a  cooling  night  in  front  of 
our  interview.  But  I  want  an  explanation,  and  I 
think  I'm  entitled  to  it." 

Irene  looked  at  him  helplessly.  She  was  on  the 
high  seas,  rudderless. 

u  I  thought  you  would  willingly  have  given  your 
life  for  Hugh,"  she  said.  u  You  were  deeply  moved 
— said  there  was  nothing  you  would  not  give.  The 
scheme  flashed  on  me.  I  never  doubted  your  assent 
— as  God  hears  me,  Gerard,  I  felt  the  certainty  like 
an  inspiration." 

u  Damned  funny  inspiration  to  fancy  that  I  would 
tamely  agree  to  your  infidelities  with  another  man." 

u  But  didn't  you  understand?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Perfectly.  But  I'm  not  the  sort  of  man  to  share 
my  wife  with  anybody — even  with  my  dearest  friend. ' ' 

The  world  was  rocking.  Her  senses  swam.  She 
lost  heed  of  surroundings.  Found  herself  saying  in  a 
silly  way : 

"  But  it  was  all  a  lie,  Gerard.  I  thought  you 
knew." 

He  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  or  two  and  then 
thumped  his  fist  on  the  dining-table.  The  shock  upset 

J99 


Idols 

a   little  epcrgne  of  flowers  and  the  water  flooded  the 
dark-red  table-cover. 

And  I  say  it  wasn't  a  lie.      There !  " 
"  Gerard!" 

The  voice,  pitched  high,  rang  through  the  house. 
A  cry  of  terror,  incredulity,  reproach.  Thcv  re- 
mained looking  at  each  other;  he  doggedly,  unmoved, 
\iith  slightly  crossed  eyes;  she  in  blank  anguish  of 

/emcnt. 

"  I  don't  beat  about  the  bush.  I  come  straight  to 
the  point.  You  and  Col  man  carried  on  behind  my 
back.  Do  you  suppose  I  was  fool  enough  not  to  sec 
I  was  only  biding  my  time.  It  came  sooner  than 
I  expected.  A  coup  dt  tbffttrt.  I  thought  something 
was  wrong  by  the  unnecessary  state  of  excitemc 
have  been  in  the  last  few  weeks.  It  must  have 

ng,  with  a  vengeance!     All  I  can  say  is,  that  I 
admire  your  pluck.      How  long  has  this  been 
on?     Tell  me/' 

It  was  a  mere  invention — pure  perjury — to  saflj 
re — your  friend — my  friend.      What  am  I  to  say?* 
Oh,  my  God,  Gerard!  "  she  burst  out.      "  Y 
not  in  earnest — you  are  angry — saying  this  to  try  mfl 
for  some  reason  that  I  don't  understand." 

The  thought  of  his  belief  in  her  sworn  statement 
had  never  entered  her  mind  during  the  most  fear-; 
moment.      The  fact  dazed  her.      He  shook   his 
shoulders  impatiently. 

2     j 


Idols 

u  You  had  better  give  it  up  and  answer  my  ques- 
tion." 

"  I  have  answered  it — my  whole  life  with  you  has 
answered  it." 

"  It  has,"  he  sneered.  u  And  more  fool  I  for  not 
having  taken  the  answer  before.  And  I  tell  you,  I 
was  getting  pretty  sick  of  it — the  eternal  Hugh,  Hugh 
— damn  him  ! — in  every  sentence  you  uttered — the 
everlasting  sight  of  him  in  the  house " 

1 '  But  I  thought  he  was  as  dear  to  you  as  I  was ! ' ' 
broke  in  Irene,  aghast. 

u  It  suited  your  purpose  to  think  so.  I  never  told 
you  so.  I'm  sick  of  it — utterly  sick  of  it.  Sick  of 
your  flim-flammeries  of  philosophy  and  the  higher  life 
and  noble  work  in  the  world  and  all  that  rot.  And 
now  I'm  heartily  glad  it's  over." 

u  Over?  "  she  echoed,  falteringly. 

"  Yes,  over.  I'm  not  going  to  play  the  injured 
husband.  I'm  going  to  be  free;  to  do  what  I  like 
and  live  as  I  like,  and  you  can  go  off  with  your  lover 
and  help  him  to  write  his  measly  poetry.  It  has  been 
choking  me  for  years.  I'm  going  to  get  free  of  it  all. " 

Irene  listened,  stupefied.  He  seemed  some  unutter- 
able stranger  that  had  obtained  access  to  her  presence, 
she  knew  not  how.  He  thrust  his  hands  into  his 
pockets  and  turned  away.  The  gesture  was  familiar. 
Times  out  of  number  he  had  stood  so,  looming  huge 
between  herself  and  the  light.  It  touched  a  tender 

201 


Idols 

chord,  brought  back  the  Gerard  she  had  known  and 
worshipped.  Again  she  flew  to  him,  caught  him  by 
the  lapels  of  his  o>at  and  broke  into  a  loud  cry. 

"  But  Gerard — my  husband — am  I  a  woman  ( 
hk-  of  such  a  thin 

He  unloosened  her  hands  and  drew  apart  from  her. 

"All  women  are  the  same—  is  or  MessaJ 

Unas/' 

44  Then  Hugh " 

I  tell  you  I  hate  him,"  said  Gerard,  vindictively. 

Then,  suddenly,  beneath  his  furious  anger  Irene 
saw  the  man  as  he  was,  and  her  idol  lay  shivered  at 
her  feet. 

41  Was  that  why  you  never  told  me  of  his  having 
saved  your  life?  " 

Taken  aback  for  the  moment,  he  looked  at  her 
enquiringly. 

"  Because  you  hated  him  and  were  jealous  of  him 
all  the  time?  " 

<c  I  told  you  my  reasons.      I  haven't  come  now  to 
ss  them." 

He  crossed  the  room  and  caught  up  his  hat. 

I  wish   I   had  not  come  at  all,"  he  said,  with  a 
drop  in  his  tone  to  sullenness.      "  I  should  have  sent' 
my  solicitor.      Your  brazening  it   out    made    me  losft 
mv  temper." 

Irene  interpo^-d  herself  between  him  and  the  door,! 

"\\>   can't    part   like    tli  >aid   i<i   a  <]"£*• 

202 


Idols 

i  Jce.      <c  Tell  me  what  your  wishes  are  and  I'll  try 
:o  obey  them." 

Gerard  reflected  for  a  moment,  checking  a  spiteful 
Dutburst.  He  had  said  his  say.  Further  display  of 
inger  was  futile.  Also  he  knew  something  of  Irene, 
ind  was  aware  that  plain  words  would  fall  coldest 
upon  her  intelligence. 

u  After  what  has  passed,"   he  said,  "  I  can't  live 
in  this  house  while  you  are  here." 
"  I  will  leave  it  to-day,"  said  Irene. 
"  Take  your  time.      I  don't  want  to  inconvenience 
ou  more  than  I  can  help." 

"  You  are  ver/ kind,  Gerard,"  said  Irene,  in  bitter 
ony. 

I  will  have  everything  that  belongs  to  you  des- 
atched  wherever  you  think  fit,"  he  continued,  un- 
eeding. 

"  And  then?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  looked  at  her  askance 
or  a  second. 

u  Then  I  get  my  divorce." 

Her  mind,  dazed  by  exhaustion  and  the  pain  and 
ic  successive  cataclysms  of  this  disastrous  interview, 
ad  not  travelled  a  second  beyond  the  lurid  present, 
"he  bald  word  was  a  new  shock,  the  final  sledge- 
ammer  blow  that  sent  love  reeling.  She  grew  very 
fhite. 

You  intend  to — divorce — me  ?  *'  »he  said,  slowly. 
20? 


Idols 

4 *  That    is    my  intention/'    he   replied,    somewhat 
abashed  before  her  staring  eyes. 

Irene  shrank  away  from  the  door,  and  turned  grop- 
ingly towards  a  couch  against  the  wall.  Gerard] 
lingered  for  a  moment  on  the  threshold.  Then  hej 
left  her.  She  sank  upon  the  couch  shuddering  and! 
faint,  looking  helplessly  at  the  upset  flowers  and  the 
soaking  pool  of  water  upon  the  table-cover. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AN  aunt,  with  whom  she  had  lived  during  the  brief 
interval  between  her  return  from  India  and  her  mar- 
riage, granted  her  a  temporary  asylum. 

"  If  you  will  do  with  me  until  I  can  find  some 
place  of  my  own,"  said  Irene,  u  I  shall  be  grateful." 

"  My  house  is  always  open  to  dear  Robert's  child," 
said  Miss  Beechcroft. 

She  was  an  austere  woman  of  primitive  views,  tc 
whom  Irene  had  ever  been  a  puzzle.  As  the  heroine 
of  this  amazing  scandal,  her  niece  was  a  dark  and 
inscrutable  enigma.  Its  transcendency  bewildered 
her.  Having  no  moral  foot-rule  capable  of  measuring 
it,  she  did  not  attempt  the  obviously  futile.  She 
waived  explanatory  details.  Her  dead  brother's  only 
child  craved  shelter;  she  gave  it  willingly;  her  own 
companionship  she  withheld  as  much  as  possible,  for 
a  variety  of  reasons.  Not  the  least  was  the  gentle- 
woman's respect  for  the  dignity  of  suffering. 

The  freedom  from  misdirected  sympathy  was  a  boon 
to  Irene.  She  needed  solitude.  Her  universe  had 
crashed  about  her  ears.  At  first  she  was  dazed, 
stunned,  scarce  knowing  where  to  turn  amid  the  shape- 

205 


Idols 

less  wreckage.  Few  things  could  exemplify  the  cata- 
clysm. Overwhelming  proof  coming  to  a  Paul  at  the 
end  of  his  life  that  there  was  no  Christ,  that  his  apos- 
tolate  had  been  pure  silliness,  could  not  have  brought 
him  more  face  to  face  with  chaos.  It  was  too  sudden 
tor  her  to  look  within  for  contributing  causes.  Intro- 
spection comes  later.  At  present  she  could  only  stare 
aghast  at  the  ruins  of  her  life,  and  proceed  to  shape  for 
herself  a  temporary  existence. 

On  the  second  day  after  the  trial  she  found  a  meas- 
ure of  mental  calmness.      The  past  was  irrevocable. 
Gerard's   self-revelation   was   final.      There   was    no 
Gerard,  such  as  she  had  conceived  him;  her  w 
had  been  a  futility.      She  was  conscious  that  love  was 
dead,  killed  outright  by  lightning.      Further  she  could 
not  go.      Neither  could  she  forecast  the  consequences 
of  the  threatened  divorce.      Reconstruction    for    the 
present  was  essential.      The  effort  braced  her  strength 
Nature  came  to  her  aid,  pride  armed  her  with  stead- 
fastness, the  fire  of  suffering  steeled  her  will, 
could   humble   herself  no  more  to  Gerard  to  sue  f< 
mercy.      In    even-thing    henceforward    the    initi.iti 
would  lie  with  him.      She  throned   herself  on   snow- 
capped heights. 

Yet  from  time  to  time  her  warm  woman's  natu 
drooped  earthward  and  sought  for  Hugh.  But  she 
shrank  tremblingly  from  meeting  him,  wrote  him  a 
second  vague  postponement.  Then  regretted  it  an 

206 


' 


Idols 

hour  aftei .  She  must  see  him,  and  that  soon ;  before 
he  encountered  Gerard.  What  would  happen  if  the 
two  men  met — Gerard  mad  with  jealous  passion,  Hugh 
blazing  with  indignation?  The  gentler  elements 
within  her  took  fright.  A  month  before  she  would 
have  scouted  the  idea  of  violence  as  preposterous. 
Bloodshed  in  private  quarrel  was  a  thing,  in  England, 
of  the  evil  and  romantic  past.  But  she  would  have 
counted  as  equally  unreal  the  story  of  the  recent  sen- 
sational incidents  in  their  lives.  Now  nothing  seemed 
too  improbable  for  possibility.  Calais  sands  stretched 
wet  and  bloodstained  before  her  imagination.  But 
still  she  shrank  from  meeting  Hugh. 

She  lay  awake  long  that  night,  in  the  primly  fur- 
nished room  where  once  she  had  dreamed  so  many 
girlish  dreams  of  the  man  she  was  about  to  marry,  and 
strove  to  disentangle  the  complexities  of  her  emotions. 
t  She  dreaded  Hugh  learning  Gerard's  resolution.  A 
cowardly  impulse  to  send  Hugh  as  mediator  between 
Gerard  and  herself,  was  strangled  a>  birth  by  a  fierce 
grip  of  pride.  If  she  alone  could  not  convince  her 
husband  of  her  fidelity,  what  mattered  his  conviction 
at  all  ?  And  then  the  realisation  of  that  of  which  she 
stood  self-accused  lapped  her  woman's  chastity  in  fire 
from  head  to  foot.  At  last  she  slept.  The  morning 
came,  but  with  it  no  letter  of  repentance,  as  she  had 
vaguely  hoped,  from  Gerard.  His  decision  had  been 
final.  In  the  afternoon  she  went  to  Sunnington  and 

207 


Idols 

superintended  the  packing  of  her  belongings.  The 
maid  Jane  aided  her,  glancing  every  now  and  then 
with  scared  eyes  at  the  set  face  of  her  mistress  and 
dimly  comprehending  the  anguish  that  lay  behind.  If 
Irene  had  gone  through  the  rooms  tearful  and  sobbing, 
the  girl  would  have  wept  in  sympathy ;  but  there  was 
that  in  Irene's  manner  that  held  her  silent. 

Only  once  did  Irene  break  down,  and  then  she  was 
alone  in  the  upstairs  room,  that  had  been  a  nurv 
and  whose  high  fire-guards — fixtures  which  they  had 
not   disturbed  when    they  took   over  the   house — still 
suggested   its  former  use.      And  a  small  child's  bed 
was  there,  occupied  in  her  time  by  many  little  waifs.  ] 
The  associations  the  room  had  always  evoked  came 
back  to  her.      She  threw  herself  face  downward  on] 
the  bed. 

"  Thank  God,  thank  God,"  she  cried,  "  I  haven't 
got  a  child!" 

Three  days  ar   sufficient  for  a  sensation  to  become 
ancient   history   in    London.      This   truth,    like   most] 
others,  is  tame  and  unobtrusive  and  therefore  apt  to  be 
disregarded  by  the  still   bloodshot  vision   of  the  hero  I 
of  the  sensation.      The  man  in  the  street  had  forgotten! 
Hugh,  but  Hugh  overrated  his  memory  and  studiously! 
kept  out  of  his  way.      The  West  End  knew  him  not. 
What  time  he  did  not  remain  restless  in  his  flat,  he 
walked  or  bicycled  for  miles  into  the  country,  filling 

908 


Idols 

his  lungs  with  the  free,  sweet  spring  air  and  drowning 
anxieties  in  the  intoxication  of  motion  and  freedom. 

He  had  not  yet  recovered  his  mental  balance,  rudely 
upset  by  the  extraordinary  termination  of  the  trial. 
He  knew  not  whether  to  call  himself  arrant  knave  or 
blatant  fool;  a  sorry  Don  Quixote,  degraded  at  the 
instant  of  self-plumage;  or  a  poor  marionette,  with 
limbs  jerked  ludicrously  by  destiny.  He  had  faced 
death  for  a  contemptuous  sentiment  of  personal  honour, 
in  connection  with  a  woman  he  despised;  life  had 
been  purchased  for  him  at  the  cost  of  the  honour  of  the 
one  woman  in  the  world  for  whom  he  would  have 
gladly  died  a  thousand  deaths.  How  did  his  honour 
stand?  Grotesquely  tragic,  under  any  aspect. 

An  interview  with  Irene  and  Gerard  would  perhaps 
restore  some  kind  of  equilibrium.  But  hitherto  that 
had  been  denied.  Twice  Irene  had  written  a  brief 
"  not  yet."  Delicacy  commanded  scrupulous  obe- 
dience. But  the  truer  and  still  untainted  fountains  of 
his  heart  welled  out  towards  those  two  whose  magnifi- 
cent devotion  transcended  all  power  of  gratitude. 
And  an  exquisite  sadness  of  irony  was  superadded. 
Would  the  jury  have  convicted  him,  after  Gardiner's 
handling  of  the  evidence?  Cold  reason  returned  an 
assured  negative.  But  this,  those  two  should  never 
know.  Meanwhile  he  hungered  for  the  sight  of  Irene. 

A  friend  visited  him  on  the  third  morning  after  the 
trial ;  Cahusac,  a  rosy,  gold-spectacled  man  who  held 
14  209 


Idols 

a  high  position  on  one  of  the  great  dailies.  Hugh  was 
preparing  to  ride  forth  on  his  quest  of  the  intoxication 
of  budding  lanes. 

44  I  must  get  Holloway  out  of  my  blood,"  he  ex- 
plained, welcoming  his  friend.  "  I  think  of  nothing 
but  God's  air  and  sunshine.  But  what  brings  you 
from  your  bed  at  this  hour?  " 

44  Selfishness.      I  come  begging  favours.  " 

44  I  am  the  last  one  to  confer  them. 

14  What  are  your  plans?  "  asked  Cahusac,  throwing 
himself  into  a  seat. 

Hugh  made  a  helpless  gesture.  A<  I  am  a  ruined 
man,  Cahusac." 

44  My  dear  fellow,  half  the  world   forgets  and  the 
forgives.      I  have  been  about  much  lately,  sound- 
ing society.     The  heroic  condones.     Pardon  my  frank- 
ness 

44  And  those  two 

44  Who?  The  Merriams?  Of  course  they  are 
much  discussed." 

H  I  know,"  said  Hugh.  4<  Look — you  asked  me 
for  my  plans.  This  is  one.  I  enter  no  house  where 
I  should  be  pardoned  and  the  Merriams  condemned." 

44  You  must  excuse  me,  Colman,"  said  Cahi. 
somewhat  at  fault;   "  I  am  aware  of  delicate  ground — 
but  why  do  you  speak  of  them  unitedly?     Merriam 
has   broken    no   conventions;    naturally,    he    will    be 
received  everywhere,  as  usual." 


Idols 

"  He  will  claim  equal  privileges  for  his  wife." 

u  But  they  are  not  continuing  to  live  together,  as  if 
nothing  had  happened?  " 

u  Just  as  if  nothing  had  happened,"  replied  Hugh, 
with  the  conviction  of  ignorance. 

u  And  your  relations  remain  unbroken?  " 

"  Certainly/'  said  Hugh. 

Cahusac,  who  had  been  ascending  the  scale  of  mys- 
tification, rose  from  his  chair. 

"  You  are  three  astounding  people — the  world 
won't  stand  that,  you  know — it's  almost  too  much 
for  me,  and  I'm  not  squeamish.  No.  Hang  it  all — 
The  marl  complaisant — and  Merriam  is  the  last  man  in 
the  world — it  beats  me  altogether.  Look  here,  I'll 
come  back  another  time.  I  must  digest  this  first !  ' ' 

The  cleanly  Briton  in  him  was  disgusted.  Poly- 
andry in  Terra  del  Fuego  is  ethnologically  interesting. 
In  England  it  wears  a  different  aspect. 

Hugh  broke  into  a  half  laugh,  and,  striding  forward, 
seized  Cahusac  by  the  shoulder  and  swung  him  round. 

"You  silly  fool,"  he  cried.  "  Do  you  suppose 
I'm  the  man  to  let  you  talk  like  this  about  my  private 
affairs,  if  things  were  as  you  think?  Has  it  never 
entered  your  head  that  the  story  was  a  lie  from  begin- 
ning to  end?  That  Mrs.  Merriam  is  the  purest  of 
women  and  the  most  spotless  of  wives?  That  it  was 
the  desperate  stroke  of  two  heroic  friends  to  save  a 
man's  life?" 

211 


Idols 

The  journalist's  rosy  face  expressed  blank  astonish- 
ment. He  sank  upon  a  chair  and  muttered  incoherent 
wonder  and  apology. 

"You  are  more  astounding  than  ever!*'  he  ex- 
claimed at  last.  4<  Of  course  I  was  taken  in,  like  the 
judge,  jury,  press,  public,  everybody  —  I'm  heartily 
thankful/' 

Suddenly  he  grew  very  grave. 

"  Are  you  aware  that  you  have  committed  a  blaz- 
ing indiscretion?  " 

44  In  telling  you?" 

44  Yes." 

I    know  something  of  men,"  said    Hugh   in    his 
grand  way. 

"  You  can  no  more  know  a  man  in  calm  weather 
than  you  can  know  a  ship.      I  myself  am  not  aware 
what  a  villain  I  could  be,  if  it  were  worth  my  while.  j 
I'll   try  to  keep  straight.      But  don't  trust  any  one 
else  with  your  secret.     The  blabbing  tongue — the  ears  j 
of  the  police — that  heroic  woman  had  up  for  perjury 
— I  need  say  no  more. ' ' 

Hugh  walked  about  the  room,  agitated. 

You  are  right.      Of  course  I  knew  it  in  a  vague 
sort  of  way — but  I  have  been  driven  half  crazy — the 
strain  of  the  last  month — unimaginable — God  knows  j 
how  I  pulled  through.      You  are  the  first  man   I  have 
spoken  to.      I  couldn't  bear  to  let  you  think  ill  of  hen 
—and  your  kind,  honest  mug  was  so  refreshing  to  me 

212 


Idols 

— I  couldn't  help  it.  I  never  realised  clearly  before, 
that  to  save  her  from  penal  servitude  I  must  consent 
to  stand  by  and  see  the  world  throw  mud  at  her. 
What  a  complicated  wreck  one's  life  becomes  as  soon 
as  it  leaves  the  rails !  ' ' 

u  Don't  make  yourself  miserable  with  false  analo- 
gies," said  Cahusac,  philosophically.  u  I'm  sick  of 
the  rails  and  I  want  to  get  off  them.  For  that  reason 
I  asked  what  your  plans  were — I  meant  for  the  imme- 
diate future." 

"  I  shall  give  up  the  bar,"  said  Hugh,  with  a 
shudder,  u  at  least  criminal  work.  I  said  I  was  a 
ruined  man.  That's  why." 

"  You  persist  in  misunderstanding,"  said  the  other 
with  a  smile.  ' i  You  forget  I  came  to  ask  a  favour — 
I  am  thinking  of  going  abroad  for  a  holiday,  taking 
it  now  instead  of  in  the  inevitable  August.  Wife 
doesn't  want  to  go.  I  am  companionless.  Will  you 
take  pity  on  me?  " 

Hugh's  impulsive  nature  responded  to  all  the 
motives  of  the  kindly  act.  He  seized  Cahusac's 
hand. 

"  I  won't  thank  you.  There  are  some  deeds  of 
friendship  beyond  thanks.  I'll  come  with  you  all  the 
more  gladly  now  that  I  have  told  you.  But  I  should 
like  to  see  the  Merriams  before  we  start." 

Cahusac  lifted  his  eyebrows.  "  You  haven't  seen 
them  yet?" 

213 


Idols 

Hugh  received  discomfort  from  his  glance.  He 
explained  vaguely. 

"  Take  your  own  time,"  said  Cahusac,  again  rising 
to  go.  "  Things  are  slack  just  now.  I  can  get  away 
prc-tty  easily." 

The  Good  Samaritan  departed,  and  Hugh  remained 
for  some  time  speculative  at  the  window,  looking  out 
into  the  sunshine.  He  had  known  Cahusac  and  his 
wife  fairly  intimately  for  several  years.  They  were 
friends,  too,  of  the  Merriams.  But  hitherto  he  had 
shrouded  his  private  life  from  them  in  his  customary 
reserve.  He  wondered  now  at  the  indiscreet  ex  pan- 
si  veness  of  which  he  had  been  guilty.  The  seen 
safe  enough  with  Cahusac.  But  would  he  not  have 
betrayed  it,  just  the  same,  to  a  less  scrupulous  friend, 
who  had  come  to  him  that  morning  with  a  sympa- 
thetic face?  The  thought  gave  qualms.  The  past 
year  had  loosened  his  character.  The  past  month  had 
played  havoc  with  it;  had  weakened,  too,  his  firm 
grasp  of  logical  issues.  Cahusac  had  enabled  his 
mind  to  gain  fresh  hold.  He  faced  the  consequences 
of  Irene's  action  with  the  pain  of  a  great  dismay. 

The  physical  longing  for  air  and  sun  and  forgetful- 
ness  in  quick  motion  lured  him  out  of  doors.  He 
rode  hard  through  Sunnington  and  along  the  Heath 
Road  until  he  reached  the  open  country.  He  tra 
many  miles  that  day,  going  along  lonely  stretches  of 
clear  road  at  racing  speed  which  brought  the  thrill  into 

214 


Idols 

bis  veins  and  the  lust  of  physical  life  that  floods 
thought.  He  was  in  that  condition  of  being  which, 
in  a  more  elemental  age,  would  have  carried  him  bare- 
jsark  into  the  joy  of  battle :  modern  civilisation  substi- 
jtutes  the  bicycle.  Perhaps,  after  all,  we  are  not  more 
(grotesque  than  our  ancestors. 

The  dusk  was  falling  when  he  returned  by  the 
Heath  Road,  dusty  and  thoroughly  fatigued.  He 
glanced  wistfully  at  the  Merriams'  house  as  he  sped 
by.  The  lights  were  not  yet  lit.  It  bore  a  strange 
aspect  of  desertion.  For  a  moment  he  felt  the  im- 
pulse to  turn  and  seek  admittance,  get  through  the 
strange  first  interview,  whose  indefinite  postponement 
was  growing  stranger  still.  Irene's  sensitiveness  he 
could  understand ;  besides,  she  had  written  twice. 
But  Gerard's  silence  was  unaccountable.  Was  he 
waiting,  despite  Irene's  messages,  for  him  to  take  the 
initiative?  The  temptation  was  strong ;  but  obedience 
to  Irene  prevailed.  He  went  on,  letting  his  weary 
mind  drift  on  trivial  matters.  He  would  have  a  meal, 
smoke,  and  sleep  like  a  log.  It  would  be  the  first 
sound,  unstirring  sleep  for  many  weeks.  The  night 
before  he  had  had  a  shivering  dream  of  Minna,  which 
had  kept  him  awake  till  morning.  Where  was  she? 
He  wondered  vaguely. 

Suddenly  a  figure  crossing  the  road  in  front  of  him 
caused  him  to  ring  his  bell.  The  figure  turned.  He 
recognised  Irene.  In  a  second  he  had  dismounted 

215 


Idols 

and  was  by  her  side.      She  extended  her  hand,  looked 
at  him  frankly  in  the  waning  light. 

4<  Fate  has  arranged  it  for  us/'  he  said.      44  If 
knew  how  I   have   been   hungering  for   speech   with 
you!" 

44  I  couldn't  send  for  you/'  she  replied.  44  There 
were  reasons " 

44  I  know.  I  have  waited  patiently.  But  you 
feel  what  I  have  to  express  somehow  to  you  and 
Gerard." 

44  You  mustn't  see  Gerard/'  she  said,  with  a  little 
break  in  her  voice.  4(  I  think  it  would  be  best  if  you 
did  not  see  me,  either.  What  is  the  good  of  words 
to  thank  me?  We  understand  each  other  too  well  to 
need  them.  Couldn't  you  go  away  for  a  holiday  some-  v 
where?  It  would  be  the  best  for  all  of  us.  You 
mustn't  be  hurt — indeed,  you  mustn't.  But  you  will 
do  what  I  ask  you  ? ' ' 

44  Anything  in  the  wide  world.  In  fact,  I  am  going 
abroad  with  Cahusac.  I  was  only  waiting  until  I  had 
seen  you.  But  I  don't  understand " 

He  stopped,  regarded  her  anxiously.  In  spite  of 
the  falling  darkness,  he  could  see  that  she  looked  thor- 
oughly ill. 

ki  I    may  as  well   tell  you  at  once,"  she  said,  with 
quiet   abruptness,  moving   a   step   nearer   to  him  and 
laying  her  fingers  on  the  bicycle  handle.      44  You   are! 
making  the  same  mistake  as  I  did — reckoning  on  Ger- 

216 


Idols 

ard's  acquiescence.  He  is  unspeakably  angry.  We 
have  quarrelled  over  it.  That  is  why  I  didn't  send 
for  you.  If  you  could  do  anything,  I  should  ask  you. 
But  it  is  a  matter  solely  concerning  the  two  of  us. 
Time  will  set  it  right." 

She  spoke  so  quietly  that  he  never  suspected  the 
truth.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  well  realise  that, 
Gerard  not  consenting,  the  public  sacrifice  of  his 
honour  should  arouse  his  furious  indignation.  His 
conception  of  the  breach  between  Irene  and  Gerard 
was  sufficient  in  itself  to  keep  him  speechless  with 
pain  and  remorse. 

"It  wasn't  your  fault,  dear  Hugh,"  she  said,  at 
length,  comfortingly.  "  And  don't  think  I  regret 
what  I  did.  Gerard  will  see  it  in  the  same  light  as 
myself  some  day. ' ' 

"  But  now — to  cause  this  division  between  you — I 
wish  I  had  pleaded  guilty.  It  would  have  settled 
everything  at  once." 

The  words  fell  somewhat  incoherently.  He  writhed 
under  a  sense  of  impotence.  How  could  he  comfort 
or  reassure  her?  His  wits  floundered.  Suddenly  they 
came  into  sharp  contact  with  an  idea.  Why  was  she 
walking  away  from  the  house  at  this  hour  of  the  even- 
ing? He  put  the  question. 

"  I  am  staying  with  my  aunt,  in  Redcliffe  Gar- 
dens," she  replied,  calmly.  "  It  was  best  to  avoid 
the  tension  at  home." 

217 


Idols 

"  I  cannot  blame  Gerard/'  said  Hugh,  in  a  low 
voice.  4<  And  yet,  I  thought " 

44  Yes,"  said  Irene,  looking  him  full  in  the  face. 
44  We  both  thought. 

Hitherto  they  had  been  standing  still  by  the  road- 
side. Now  she  turned  and  moved  onwards,  Hugh 
accompanying  her,  slowly  wheeling  his  machine — an 
incongruous  clement. 

41  You  can  see  now  why  I  want  you  to  go  away 
fora  little?" 

44  Only  too  clearly,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

Irene  knew  that  he  did  not  see  at  all,  and  cast  up 
at  him  an  instinctive  feminine  glance,  half-grateful, 
half-pitying. 

When  shall  you  start?" 

Practically  at  once — as  soon  as  Cahusac  can  get 
away.      Are  you  anxious  that  I  should  go  quickly?  " 

44  I  should  feel  easier 

"  Can  I  come  to  see  you  before  I  leave?  " 


i  4 


Best  not.      It  will  make  no  difference  between  us. 
The  old  friendship  remains." 

They  had  come  to  the  end  of  the  line  of  villa 
dences,  to  the  cross-road   that   marked  the  beginning 
of  Sunnington  proper.      Irene  halted. 

44  You  must  ride  on,"  she  said,  extending  her  hand. 
He  saw  the  social  necessity.  They  were  a  marked 
couple,  and  several  passers-by  had  already  turned  curi- 
ous eyes  upon  them. 

218 


Idols 

u  I  shall  stay  abroad  until  I  have  your  permission 
to  return,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  sadly.  It  would  not  be  her  summons 
that  would  bring  him  back  from  exile.  But  she  nod- 
ded an  assent.  He  pressed  her  hand,  murmured  a 
"  God  bless  you,"  and  rode  off. 

The  interview  that  each  had  looked  forward  to, 
with  such  trepidation,  was  over.  Irene  felt  somewhat 
faint  from  the  strain.  Deceit  was  alien  to  her  nature 
which  ever  erred  in  over-frankness.  Yet  when  he 
quickly  disappeared  from  her  following  eyes  into  the 
gathering  darkness,  she  gave  a  little  sob  of  relief  and 
hurried  on  at  a  brisk  pace. 


219 


CHAPTER   XVI 

41  TFM.  me,  Harroway,"  said  Gerard,  u  you  who 
are  the  friend  of  us  all,  and  would  like  to  defend  both 
ITU  wife  and  Colman,  does  her  story  hold  water?  M 

44  I  should  let  things  alone  for  the  present,"  replied^ 
the  lawyer,  cautiously;  "make  investigations,  give 
her  for  the  while  the  benefit  of  the  doubt." 

11  But  there  can't  be  any  doubt.  The  whole  thing 
hangs  together.  Col  man  was  over  head  and  ears  in 
love  with  her  before  our  marriage.  He  has  been 
openly  in  love  with  her  ever  since.  They  have  been'! 
associated  in  all  her  confounded  schemes  and  philan- 
thropies. He  was  always  on  her  tongue  and  in  her 
thoughts — always  in  the  house  when  I  wasn't  there*. 
I  remember  he  wanted  to  jump  down  my  throat  once 
because  I  suggested  Irene  had  her  faults  like  others. 
Look  at  those  poems  of  his  addressed  to  her.  All  the 
same  This  charge  of  murder  is  br  >^ht  . 

him.  His  mouth  is  closed.  For  a  time  I  didn't 
believe  the  woman  plea.  However,  we  all  agreed 
there  was  one.  Who  could  it  be?  All  of  us  flooreB 
My  wife  half  dead  with  anxiety — yet  going  throughB 
day  by  day.  We  know  what  women  can  bear  whHj 
it's  a  question  of  concealment — a  woman  the  othal 


Idols 

day  was  delivered  of  a  child  during  a  ball,  and  returned 
smiling  to  the  ball-room — you  saw  the  case.  I  don't 
call  Irene's  attitude  any  criterion  of  innocence.  She 
keeps  it  up  to  the  end.  But  when  the  rope  is  round 
his  neck,  her  nerve  gives  way,  and  the  whole  thing 
comes  out.  Put  upon  oath,  she  gives  it  cut  and  dried 
— as  cynically  as  you  please — a  woman  all  over. 
There's  no  getting  out  of  it.  And  I — I  am  the  com- 
mon mock  of  England." 

He  spoke  quietly,  with  an  air  of  outraged  dignity 
that  won  Harroway's  sympathy. 

"  It's  a  miserable  business  altogether,"  said  the 
latter,  biting  the  end  of  his  quill-pen,  as  he  sat  in  his 
leathern  office-chair,  pushed  back  slightly  from  the 
table. 

u  Then  you  agree  with  me  that  her  explanation  is 
preposterous?  " 

u  The  other  thing  bears  the  greater  stamp  of  prob- 
ability," replied  Harroway.  And  thus  was  Irene 
judged.  Gerard  felt  relieved.  Harroway's  opinion 
was  of  a  certain  value.  It  was  sure  to  be  the  keynote 
of  that  of  the  Merriams'  social  circle  in  which  the  old 
solicitor  was  an  influential  member,  and  Gerard  was 
anxious  to  learn  how  society  would  take  his  divorce. 
For  that  purpose  he  had  sought  out  Harroway  in  his 
office  and  plunged  into  the  midst  of  things,  with  a 
frankness  that  was  not  altogether  characteristic.  He 
had  gained  his  first  point — a  definite  verdict  against 


Idols 

Irene.  He  himself  believed  her  guilt)'.  But  a  lurk- 
ing, uncomfortable  suspicion  that  proof  of  her  inno- 
cence might  not  sing  with  his  heart's  secret  withal 
made  him  distrustful  of  his  own  judgment.  The 
contemplation  of  divorce  was  accompanied  by  sundry 
pricks  of  conscience.  A  vague  fear  assailed  him  that 
society  might  take  Irene's  side.  He  sought  the  supl 
port  of  public  opinion  to  bolster  up  a  not  to< 
courage.  He  had  a  dim  feeling  that,  in  spite  of 
willingly  jealous  belief  in  her  guilt,  he  was  about 
do  Irene  a  great  wrong  by  divorcing  her. 

11  I  am  not  a  revengeful  man,  Harroway,"  he 
after  a  few  moments'  silence.      "  I   am   only  ai 
to  put  an  end  to  a  tie  the  continuance  of  which  would 
be  a  farce.      It  is  not  even  as  though   I  were   putting 
her    to    public    shame.      She    has    done   that    herself 
already." 

44  Then  I  would  not  be  precipitate,"  said  Harro- 
way. 4<  You  might  feel  disposed  to  forgive  her, 
Such  things  have  happened  to  men  without  loss  cl 
dignity." 

11  I'm  not  going  to  forgive  her.  I  don't  think  she 
would  desire  it.  The  fact  is  our  marriage  has  I 
sham  from  the  beginning.  If  I  divorce  her,  she  can 
marry  Colman.  I'm  not  likely — God  forbid — to  tie 
myself  to  a  woman  again.  So  it's  not  Tor  mv  sake. 
If  I  were  seeking  vengeance  I  should  keep  her  legally 
tied.  And  I  shan't  sue  for  damages." 

222 


Idols 

u  The  action  would  have  to  be  undefended/* 

u  Precisely,'*  said  Gerard,  with  a  slight  flush. 

Harroway  rose  and  took  two  or  three  turns  about 
the  room,  his  hands  behind  his  back. 

' (  I  see  no  other  way  out  of  it,  Merriam, ' '  he  said. 
u  I  was  hoping  you  could  forgive  her — take  her  back, 
sometime.  I  am  fond  of  her.  In  fact,  fond  of  the 
three  of  you,  confound  it !  The  whole  business  has 
upset  me.  First  the  murder  affair — and  now  this. 
Yes.  It's  best.  Let  somebody  be  happy,  at  any 
rate.  You  are  acting  generously — but  I'd  like  you  to 
give  her  a  little  grace — unless  time  is  important." 

"It  is  important,"  said  Gerard.  u  I  want  to  get 
away.  I  don't  see  why  I  should  go  on  slaving  at  the 
bar  any  longer.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  my  wife  I 
should  have  chucked  it  long  ago.  I  have  about  six 
hundred  a  year  of  my  own.  Why  the  deuce  should 
I  worry  myself  ?  ' : 

u  What  are  you  thinking  of  doing?  " 

"  South  Africa.  Big  game  shooting.  One  of  the 
dreams  of  my  life.  I'm  sick  of  this  atmosphere.  I 
want  to  breathe  freely.  I  know  Freewintle — the  big 
man  at  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know.  He's  going 
out  in  two  or  three  months.  I  don't  see  why  I  should 
lose  the  chance  of  going  with  him.  So  I  should  like 
to  set  everything  straight  by  then." 

Harroway  nodded  his  head  with  mournful  assent. 

u  I  can  quite  understand. 
223 


Idols 

He  walked  across  the   room,  then   hack  again 
halted  before  Gerard. 

<(  But  you  know,  Merriam,  1  would  willingly  give 
a  thousand  pounds  to  have  your  wife  proved  inno- 
cent 

"  I  would  give  all  I  have  to  be  able  to  believe  her," 
returned  Gerard.  But  his  tone  sounded  disingenuous 
in  his  own  ears. 

((  I  am  not  going  to  ask  you  to  act  for  me,  pro- 
fessionally,'* he  added. 

I  suppose  not,"  replied  Harroway,  drily. 

They  shook  hands  and  parted.  Gerard  took  a 
long  breath  as  soon  as  he  reached  the  open  air,  and 
the  look  of  dignified  sorrow  vanished  from  his  face. 
He  walked  through  Lincoln's  Inn  Fields  with  a  step 
that  was  almost  jaunty — greatly  pleased  by  hi>  \  i>it. 
If  there  had  been  anything  mean  or  cruel  in  his  pro- 
posed action,  Harroway  would  have  protested  bluntly, 
for  flabbiness  of  expression  was  not  one  of  his  char- 
acteristics. Obviously  it  was  the  only  thing  to  be 
done.  The  sooner  the  better.  As  he  turned  into 
C'hanocry  Lane  a  child  held  up  to  him  a  basket  of 
violets.  He  bought  a  bunch,  stuck  it  in  his  butt 
hole,  a  thing  which  he  had  not  done  for  years, 
being  a  man  neglectful  of  spruceness  in  attire.  He 
felt  exhilarated,  in  holiday  mood,  experiencing  a  sensa- 
tion of  freedom  from  chafing  constraints. 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  his  furious  interview 
224 


Idols 

with  Irene.  He  had  spent  them  at  his  friend  Wes- 
ton's  place,  alone,  for  the  owner  was  absent,  where 
he  fished,  and,  between  the  rises,  meditated  on  his 
wrongs.  He  had  spoken  to  Irene  in  violent  indigna- 
tion and  hatred,  brutally,  as  the  coarse-grained  man 
does  when  he  feels  himself  to  be  injured.  Instinct, 
that  explosion  of  a  long-laid  train  of  a  thousand  tiny 
sensations,  had  directed  his  blow  against  her  most 
vital  spot — her  idealisation  of  himself.  He  had  left 
her  in  passionate  anger.  It  was  well  that  he  did  not 
encounter  Hugh  that  day.  In  the  calm  of  the  country 
life  his  anger  cooled  down,  but  it  had  engendered  a 
crop  of  sentiments  which,  when  he  examined  them, 
turned  out  to  be  not  altogether  disagreeable.  As  he 
was  not  the  man  to  have  his  senses  long  led  captive 
by  the  same  woman,  the  honeymoon  fervour  of  his 
attachment  to  Irene  had  grown  cold  for  some  years. 
The  glowing  passion  of  love,  therefore,  had  not  been 
outraged.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  was  tired  of  her, 
like  thousands  of  men  at  the  present  moment,  whom 
habit  and  sloth  and  kind  integrity  keep  dully  affection- 
ate to  their  wives.  He  was  tired  of  her  effusiveness, 
of  her  strenuousness,  of  the  high  plane  of  feeling  on 
which  she  seemed  to  live,  and  of  her  unremitting  efforts 
to  drag  him  thither.  He  had  never  felt  at  ease  with 
her,  had  been  forced  to  practise  a  thousand  decep- 
tions ;  to  live,  in  short,  a  life  alien  to  his  nature.  In 
the  daily  unconscious  struggle  between  two  individ- 
15  225 


Idols 

ualities,  the  stronger  and  more  finely  tempered  wins. 
Gerard  had  yielded  simply  because  he  had  been  afraid 
to  resist.  The  subconsciousness  of  this  moral  flabbi- 
ncss  had  always  been  present.  It  acted  now  as  a 
forcing-bed  for  the  above-mentioned  crop  of  senti- 
ments. 

The  violets  in  his  buttonhole  typified  their  bursting 
into  riotous  bloom.      He  walked  across  the  Strand  and 
down  westward  along  the  embankment,  his  veins  tin- 
gling.      The   fresh  breeze  blowing   against    the  tide 
raised  a  myriad  ripples  that  sparkled  in  the  sunshine. 
A  gull  that  had  strayed  up  river  was  hovering  snowJ 
white  against  the  blue  sky.      The  steamers,  with  their 
illusory  air  of  crowded  merriment,  shot  swiftly  by,  and 
gave    a    queer  sense   of   the  rushing  life  of   liberty.  . 
Every  man   has  certain    moments  of  sensitiveness  to] 
external  surroundings.      With  Gerard  they  were  rare  J 
but  this  was  one.      Life  was  holding  out  her  promise, 
the   world   was   before   him.      He    felt    magnanimous 
towards    Hugh;    almost   grateful    to   him    for   having 
given  him  this  opportunity  of  re-starting  his  existence.! 
He  was  young  still,  only   fivc-and-thirty.      A 
legacy  had   put  him  beyond  the  necessity  of  working 
at  an   irksome   and    unremunerative   profession.      He 
leaned   over   the    parapet  by  Somerset   House,  and  in 
the  factories  across  the  water  saw  the  wide  stretching 
veldt  and  the  lumbering  bullock-carts  and  all  the  joys 

of  the  longed-for  hunter's  life.      A  lingering  rcspect- 

226 


Idols 

ability  no  longer  sought  to  disguise  the  fact;  he  was 
heartily  glad  to  be  freed  from  Irene. 

And  so  it  happened  that,  some  days  afterwards, 
while  Cahusac  was  sitting  with  Hugh  before  their 
hotel  at  Avignon,  and  opening  the  letters  which  the 
swarthy  waiter  had  just  brought,  he  was  astonished  to 
see  Hugh  start  to  his  feet,  and,  white  and  trembling 
with  passion,  stare  at  a  communication  which  he 
dashed  presently  upon  the  table. 

u  The  villain — the  damned  villain!  " 

Cahusac  queried  mutely  through  his  gold  spectacles. 

"  He  is  bringing  an  action  for  divorce — for  divorce 
against  her — do  you  understand?  " 

"  Don't  shout  so,  man,  and  sit  down,"  said 
Cahusac,  quietly.  Hugh  obeyed  mechanically,  tore 
at  his  great  moustache,  and  went  on  in  a  voice  ren- 
dered hoarse  by  his  effort  to  keep  it  within  conversa- 
tional tones: 

"  He  believes  that  story.  Is  proceeding  on  the 
strength  of  it.  A  woman  who  idolised  him,  made 
him  her  god — the  veriest  cur  would  have  understood. 
My  God!  Cahusac,  I'll  go  back  at  once  and  shoot 
him  on  sight.  He  doesn't  deserve  to  live.  To  cast 
off  a  woman  like  that.  By  heaven,  I'll  kill  him." 

"  Don't  talk  like  a  madman,"  said  Cahusac. 

"  I  can't  sit  here.  Come  for  a  turn  with  me.  I 
shall  be  better  walking." 

227 


Idols 

Cahusac  stuffed  his  correspondence  into  his  p. 
and  accompanied  him  out  of  doors.  They  passed 
beneath  the  frowning  mass  of  the  old  Palace  of  the 
Popes,  with  its  innumerable  towers  and  machicolatcd 
battlements,  and  reached  the  outer  boulevards.  The 
mid-day  sun  beat  fiercely  down.  Below  them  lay  the 
blue  Rhone,  winding  through  this  garden  of  Southern 
France.  The  sun,  the  scene,  and  Cahusac' s  quiet 
yet  sympathetic  common  sense  gradually  calmed 
Hugh's  blazing  anger. 

44  Had  you  no  suspicion  that  it  might  come  to 
this?  "  asked  Cahusac,  as  they  walked  along  under 
the  trees. 

44  None  whatever.  Do  you  think  if  I  had,  I  should 
have  loitered  about  here?  I  knew  he  had  quarrelled 
with  her.  She  told  me.  I  could  see  nothing  un- 
natural in  it.  There  are  some  sacrifices  l>eyond  the 
power  of  the  average  man.  She  thought  he  was  equal 
to  herself.  I  didn't.  At  least  for  a  day  or  two  I 
did — just  after  the  trial.  Then  came  disillusion. 
You  were  right  in  what  you  said  about  knowledge  of 
men.  One  can  only  test  them  by  tempest.  This 
one  has  been  tested.  He's  no  better,  no  worse,  than 
that  fellow  over  there  with  the  white  umbrella  and  the 
rolls  of  fat  at  the  back  of  his  neck.  In  fact,  I  was 
obliged,  after  a  time,  to  sympathise  with  him.  What 
right  had  I  to  expect  that  a  man  would  make  such  i 
sacrifice  for  me?  I  was  powerless  to  reconcile  them. 

228 


Idols 

It  was  her  urgent  wish  that  I  should  disappear  for  a 
few  weeks — until  things  got  settled.  But  I  never, 
for  one  second,  thought  he  doubted.  We  have  been 
friends  from  childhood,  he  and  I — intimates.  He 
knows  every  syllable  that  has  ever  passed  between 
his  wife  and  myself.  A  thunderbolt  out  of  this 
iblue  sky  could  not  appall  me  more  than  this  ghastly 
news." 

i (  To  tell  you  a  secret, ' '  said  Cahusac,  ( 1 1  saw  the 
clay  feet  of  the  idol  long  ago.  A  good  fellow  in  his 
way — the  average  sensual  man." 

"  The  discovery  must  be  killing  her,"  said  Hugh. 

u  I  wonder  why  she  did  not  tell  you  before  you 
started." 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  know.  She  had  her  reasons. 
I  am  quite  satisfied.  I  could  never  put  her  into  the 
dull  category  of  common  women.  And  to  think  that 
that  man — Cahusac,  he  can't  believe  it  of  her.  Some 
infernal  villainy  is  at  work." 

He  broke  forth  again.  Cahusac  quietly  listened  out 
the  torrent  of  indignation.  It  held  elements  of  the 
rhapsodic  that  interested  him. 

They  returned  through  the  town.  Hugh  rushed 
into  the  telegraph  office  and  despatched  a  message. 

Are  you  mad?     I  am  coming." 

"  I  hope  you  have  done  nothing  rash,"  said  Ca- 
husac, who  had  waited  for  him  outside. 

"  I've  told  him  that  I  am  coming.  I  must  go 
229 


Idols 

back  straight,  Cahusac.      It  is  treating  you  miserably. 
But  you  sec  I  can't  go  on.     I  must  sec  him — put  A 
stop  to  this  infamous  business— drag  him  to  his  kneefl 
before  his  wife." 

*  Take  a  sober  man's  advice,  Colman,"   said   the 
other,   (<  and  have  it  out  with  Mrs.  Merriam  first." 

Hugh's  eyes  flashed  and  his  lips  curled  in  a  smile 
beneath  his  moustache.  Superfluous  counsel !  His 
heart  hungered  for  her.  There  was  a  spice  of  irony 
in  his  thanks. 

A  few  hours  later  Cahusac  accompanied  him  to 
the  railway  station.  The  final  adieux  came. 

c<  I  owe  you  a  great  debt  of  gratitude,  Cahusac/' 
said  Hugh. 

I    have  enjoyed  every   minute  of  the  holiday,"! 
replied  the  other  heartily. 

"  So  have  I.      It  has  made  a  fresh  man  of  me.      I 
can  face  this  now,  thanks  to  you.      If  it  had  come  on 
top  of  all  the  rest,  I  believe  it  would  have  floored  me. 
A  man  is  only  capable  of  a  certain  amount  of  convulJ 
sion  at  a  time." 

They  parted,  and  the  great  P.  L.  M.  train  carried 
Hugh  swiftly  northwards.  He  had  spoken  truly. 
He  was  under  a  deep  obligation  to  the  quiet,  kind- 
hearted  man  whose  calm  judgment  and  equable 
nature  formed  a  complete  sedative  to  the  fever  of  his 
mind,  whose  companionship  was  a  cool  hand  on  a 
hot  brow.  A  great  need  of  expansion  had  been  the 

230 


Idols 

reaction  from  the  intense  restraint  of  the  month 
preceding  his  trial.  His  thoughts  paid  Cahusac 
grateful  tribute. 

A  study  of  time-tables  suddenly  brought  him  to 
realisation  of  the  date.  It  was  the  anniversary  of 
his  wedding  day.  The  first.  It  was  scarcely  cred- 
ible. The  disastrous  twelvemonth,  viewed  in  retro- 
spect, seemed  a  space  of  many  years.  The  memory 
of  the  first  wedded  kiss  of  Minna's  young  ripe  lips 
came  faintly  as  if  from  a  far  past,  yet  not  without 
a  spasm  of  revulsion;  the  memory  of  a  succubus. 
Elemental  sex  feelings,  determining  hatred,  bend  a 
man's  judgment  of  a  woman  to  elemental  fierceness. 
For  this  reason  often  are  women  beaten.  He  tried 
to  shake  off  the  haunting  sense  of  her  caresses — to 
bury  her  existence  in  oblivion.  But  she  was  too 
essential  a  factor  in  this  ruin  of  lives  amongst  which 
he  was  walking.  What  had  become  of  her?  H^ 
clenched  his  hands  together,  and  wished  that  she  was 
dead. 

Yet  what  was  she  doing?  The  petty  and  in- 
congruous question  teased  him. 

A  train  whirred  past.  Was  it  a  strange  fatality,  or 
an  equally  strange  telepathic  sub-consciousness?  In 
that  train  was  Minna,  convalescent  after  a  long 
illness,  being  carried  on  to  Marseilles,  where  she  was 
to  catch  the  steamer  to  Smyrna.  So  husband  and 
wife  passed  each  other  in  the  darkness,  on  the  first 

231 


Idols 

anniversary  of  their  wedding-day,  and  the  soul  of  each 
was  filled  with  passionate  repudiation  of  the  other. 
And  in  cither  case  the  starry  woman,  whom  one  WON 
shipped  and  the  other  dreaded  and  envied,  was  the 
determining  cause. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE  train  drew  up  slowly  beside  the  platform  at 
Victoria,  three-quarters  of  an  hour  late.  Hugh 
stood  by  the  half-opened  door,  in  a  fume  of  impa- 
tience. He  had  telegraphed  from  Paris  to  Irene  that 
he  would  be  with  her  at  eight.  It  was  that  houi 
now.  He  must  go  straightway,  for  he  had  resolved 
to  have  speech  with  her  that  night,  and  further  delay 
would  render  his  visit  untimely.  A  porter  from  the 
Grosvenor  Hotel  came  running  up  at  his  call,  and 
took  charge  of  his  bag  and  hold-all.  Relieved  of  re- 
sponsibilities of  luggage,  he  pushed  his  way  through 
the  hurrying  stream  of  passengers  on  the  platform, 
towards  the  cab-rank.  But  before  he  could  engage  a 
cab,  he  heard  the  light  patter  of  hastening  footsteps 
behind  him,  and  his  name  uttered  in  a  familiar  voice. 
He  turned  in  astonished  delight. 

"  Irene!" 

"  Another  minute  and  I  should  have  missed 
you,"  she  said  somewhat  breathlessly. 

u  You  have  come  to  meet  me?  I  never 
dreamed ' ' 

"  Of  course  not,"  she  said  with  a  smile.  "  Your 
233 


Idols 

sex  never  does.  Did  you  think  I  could  receive  you 
at  Redcliffe  Gardens?  Your  name  is  anathema  there. 
I  am  only  allowed  on  sufferance.  I  could  not  bear 
you  to  be  denied  the  door.  Besides,  I  wanted  to  sec 
you.  So  I  came." 

44  And  you  have  been  waiting  all  this  time?  Men 
are  brutes,  Irene.  I  did  not  think  of  it.  Forgive 
me." 

44  For  what?  For  your  anxiety  to  serve  me? 
You  were  coming  straight  to  me  after  a  twenty-four 
hours'  journey,  without  stopping  to  wash  your  hands 
or  take  food.  That  needs  no  forgiveness." 

They  had  been  standing  at  the  spot  where  they  had 
met.  He  looked  anxiously  into  her  face.  It  was 
singularly  calm  and  tender,  though  the  eyes  were  a 
little  weary,  and  the  past  month  had  brought  lines 
about  the  corners  of  the  delicate  mouth.  Wonder 
was  mingled  with  his  feelings  of  relief,  for  he  had  ex* 
pccted  to  find  a  woman  broken  down  with  trouble. 
Then  his  phrase  about  the  dull  category  of  common 
women  crossed  his  mind,  and  he  smiled. 

44  Where  shall  we  talk,  Irene?  "  he  said,  with  a 
man's  helplessness. 

u  Are  you  going  to  Sunnington?  " 

44  No.  It  is  too  far.  I  am  putting  up  at  the 
hotel." 

44 Let  us  go  there,"  she  said,  turning,  with  prompt 
decision. 

234 


Idols 

"  Will  it  be  wise?  "   said  Hugh. 

She  laughed,  ever  so  little  scornfully. 

u  A  sweep  is  not  afraid  of  blacking  his  fingers 
when  he  handles  coal.  I  am  past  such  convention- 
alities." 

u  You  are  mistaken.      Quite  the  contrary." 

"  I  am  not  mistaken,  Hugh,"  she  replied  with 
[uiet  firmness.  "  Please  let  me  have  my  own  way 
n  this." 

He  bowed  in  assent,  and  they  walked  on  together. 

u  A  private  sitting-room?  " 

u  That  would  be  more  comfortable." 

There  was  a  long  silence  on  their  way  to  the  hotel. 
The  reference  to  the  subject  of  their  interview  was  a 
ouch  of  ice.  Presently  he  asked  : 

u  How  did  you  guess  that  I  should  come  to  Victoria 
nstead  of  Charing  Cross?  " 

"  You  wired  (  arrive  7.10.'  I  looked  in  a  Brad- 
haw.  The  Charing  Cross  train  is  timed  to  get  in 
five  minutes  later.  Men  haven't  all  the  sense,  you 
know. ' ' 

The  flash  of  her  old  bantering  manner  cheered 
him.  He  laughed  a  little  compliment  to  her  sagacity. 

1  (  I  chose  Victoria  because  it  was  nearer  to  you, ' ' 
be  said. 

They  reached  the  hotel.  Hugh  explained  his 
waits  at  the  office.  A  waiter  conducted  them  to  a 
private  sitting-room,  switched  on  the  light,  drew 
235 


Idols 

down  the  Venetian  blinds,  and  left  them  to  the  room's 
rather  stiff  and  imposing  comforts. 

4  You  must  be  very  tired,"  said  Irene,  woman- 
like. 44  Go  and  get  something  to  eat — and  then 
we'll  talk.  Do.  To  please  me.1' 

Her  old  solicitude  and  kindly  intimacy.  The 
upheaval  had  not  altered  her  attitude  towards  him. 
Her  steadfastness  touched  him  deeply. 

44  You  have  a  heart  of  gold,  Irene,"   he  said. 

But    he    disclaimed    hunger   or    fatigue,    and    sat 
down   in  the  saddle-bag  chair  opposite   her,  wonder- 
ing at  the  peace  of  mind    that  these   few    moments 
of  companionship  could  bring  him,  in  defiance  < 
devastating  emotions  at  work  below  the  surface, 
pushed  up  her  veil  and  regarded  him  wistfully. 

44  You  are  looking  much  older.  Your  face  has 
grown  lined — and  no  wonder." 

\Vhat    I    have  gone   through  is  small  compared 
with  the  rum  I  have  brought  on  you." 

14  If  it  is  in  any  way  your  doing,  Hugh,  you  have 
brought  me  to  the  truth,"  she  replied. 

44  The  truth 

44  Yes.      I  was  living  in  a  Fool's  Paradise.      I  sec 
now  that  disillusion  was  bound  to  have  come  sooMJ 
or  later.      Instead  of  the  glamour  disappearing  bit  bf 
bit  through  unhappy  years,  it  has  all  been  torn  of)8j 
once.      Gerard  did  not  love  me.      He  is  quite  a  di  fcr- 
ent  being  from  the  man  I  loved.      I  prefer  realities  JKJ 

216 


Idols 

shams.      I  have  arrived  at  the  truth,  and  so  I  am  con- 
tent." 

"  But  he  shall  arrive  at  the  truth,  too,"  cried 
Hugh,  starting  to  his  feet.  "  He  shall  lick  the  dust 
before  you — for  the  deadly  wrong  he  wants  to  inflict 
on  you.  I  had  no  idea  before  I  left.  If  I  had  seen 
him  yesterday  when  the  news  reached  me,  I  should 
have — Perhaps  it  is  well  I  didn't  see  him.  Why  did 
you  send  me  away  ?  Did  you  know  at  the  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  I  knew.  But  I  wanted  to 
see  whether  it  was  merely  blind  rage  or  whether  time 
would  bring  a  change.  I  felt  it  was  better  for  you 
two  not  to  meet  in  hot  blood." 

u  I  could  have  stopped  it,  at  once.  Given  you 
back  your  happiness." 

* (  Do  you  understand  me  so  little  ? ' '  she  asked 
with  an  air  of  reproach. 

( i  I  could  have  convinced  him,  brought  him  to  your 
feet.  And  I  shall — to-morrow." 

u  For  God's  sake  don't,"  she  exclaimed  quickly. 

( <  I  must.  He  shall  not  drag  your  name  through  the 
mud  of  the  courts.  I  should  be  a  hound  to  allow  it. " 

"  What  can  you  do?" 

"  Prove  to  him  where  I  was  that  night.  I  was  in 
a  woman's  company — not  in  her  arms,  thank  God. 
You  are  the  first  living  soul  to  whom  I  have  avowed 
it.  Both  of  you  shall  know  her  name  and  the  reason 
of  my  silence." 

237 


Idols 

"  No,  no,  for  God's  sake,  no!  "  cried  Irene  again. 

He  stopped  short,  checked   in  his  outburst  by  her 
tone,  and  the  intense  earnestness  of  her  face. 

"  Why  not  ?" 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  accept  his — apologies  ?  " 

"  He  would  make  reparation." 

"  I  will  not  have  any.      If  his  knowledge  of  me— 
of  the  love  that  I  bore  him — was  not  sufficient  to  clear 
me  in   his  eyes,  do  you  think  it  would  be  other  than 
humiliation  to  me  that  he  should  be  convinced  by  out-i 
side  proof?" 

4<  I  enter  only  too  deeply  into  your  feelings,  Irene. 
But  it  will  put  a  stop  to  this  unholy  action.      Do  yoJ 
suppose  I  can  rest,  while  it  is  hanging  over  you  ?  " 

"  Listen,  Hugh,"  she  said  with  a  half  smile, 
down  and  let  us  talk  quietly.      We  have  been  on  the 
emotional  strain  too  long.      I  don't  want  this  action 
stopped.      I  blessed  the  instinct  that  made  you  come 
to  me  first — so  that   I  could  tell  you.      I  have  never, 
seen  any  transcendental  sacredness  in  marriage.      You 
know  that  well  enough.      I  regard  it  as  the  social  sanc- 
tion of  a  man  and  woman  living  together.      I  would 
not  live  with  Gerard  again  for  all  the  world.      It  would 
also  be  his   last   desire.      This  is  a  blessed  chance  of 
sundering  our  lives,  legally,  for  ever.      There  are  no 
children  to  be  considered.      What  public  dishonour  the 
divorce  court  can  bring  upon  a  woman  is  mine  already. 
I  have  nothing  to  lose,  Hugh,  and  all  to  gain." 

238 


Idols 

"  What  have  you  to  gain  ?  " 

"  My  liberty.      My  own  life." 

"  Remember  that  society  awards  less  penalty  to  the 
forgiven  wife  than  to  the  divorced  one." 

"  I  want  no  patronage  of  society,"  she  flashed  out 
spiritedly.  "  I  am  not  a  repentant  Magdalene." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Hugh  lay  back  in  his 
chair,  his  cheek  supported  by  his  hand,  his  brows  knit 
in  stern  thought.  She  sat  in  more  feminine  attitude, 
slightly  leaning  forward,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the  simper- 
ing imitation  Watteau  group  on  the  fire-screen.  Sud- 
denly she  spoke,  without  diverting  her  glance. 

u  I  was  acting  when  I  saw  you  last.  It  was  an 
effort  to  be  calm.  Now  I  am  genuine." 

Her  serenity  had  been  won  inch  by  inch;  a  great 
nature  defying  woman's  weakness  that  clung  in  bleed- 
ing desperation  to  the  shattered  illusions,  finally  rout- 
ing it,  and  planting  its  own  standard  on  the  abandoned 
citadel.  The  battle  had  been  fought  during  the  in- 
terval of  utter  solitude.  Yet  not  won  without  cost. 
She  emerged  calm,  but  weary  and  wounded  and  aching 
of  heart,  with  loss  of  ideals  and  purpose  in  life.  The 
committee  of  her  beloved  Institution,  to  which  she  had 
given  so  much  earnest  enthusiasm,  had  written  an 
ashamed  and  pained  suggestion  of  her  resignation.  She 
answered  almost  within  the  minute  of  reading,  paying 
bravely  the  penalty  of  ( her  tarnished  name.  But  the 
rapid  dashes  of  the  pen  were  like  sword  thrusts  through 
239 


Idols 

her  flesh.  With  Gerard  standing  by  her  side  on  the 
starry  plane  of  sacrifice,  she  would  have  accepted  such 
penalties  happily,  for  the  dear  friend's  sake.  But 
alone,  with  Gerard  against  her,  she  needed  all  her 
proud  strength  to  bear  the  pain  unfalteringly.  She 
had  conquered,  however,  and  could  face  the  present 
and  the  future  undaunted.  Love  was  dead  and  buried. 
It  had  been  her  life.  She  would  find  a  truer  meaning 
to  the  strange  new  life  upon  which  she  was  entering. 
But  first  the  old  apparellings  must  be  cast  away, 
and  she  must  go  forth  free.  She  longed  for  the  Icgfl 
dissolution  of  the  tie  that  still  bound  her  to  Gerard. 

With  a  man's  burning  sense  of  wrong  inflicted  on 
the  beloved  woman,  Hugh  could  not  appreciate  the 
intense  earnestness  of  her  desire.  To  divorce  her 
was  a  deadly  insult  which  made  the  barbaric  man's 
fingers  tingle  to  be  at  the  throat  of  the  insulter.  Bar- 
baric vanity,  too,  compelled  his  thoughts  to  the  piti- 
able figure  he  would  cut,  if  he  stood  by  silent,  and 
allowed  this  outrage  to  be  committed.  He  shifted  his 
attitude  impatiently  and  tugged  at  his  moustache.  The 
woman  read  him,  and  smiled. 

"  Whatever  your  secret  is,  Hugh,  you  must  keep 
it  to  yourself,"  she  said  gently.  "  A  man  doesn't 
face  death  for  a  trifle.  That  woman's  honour  is  still 
in  your  keeping." 

Hugh  felt  the  phrase  like  a  barbed  arrow.  He 
snapped  his  fingers. 

240 


Idols 

"  That  for  her  honour!  It  was  not  in  question. 
My  own,  if  you  like.  I  seduced  no  man's  wife  nor 
dishonoured  his  children.  I  wrote  you  the  truth  from 
the  prison — I  can't  tell  you  more  without  entering 
upon  the  story." 

u  If  you  did,  I  should  hold  you  false  to  your  word," 
said  Irene.  <  '  And  that  you  have  never  been.  Let 
me  know  one  true  man,  at  any  rate.  I  despise  Fatima 
curiosities  with  all  my  soul.  Tell  me  truly.  You 
made  a  solemn  promise  of  silence  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

u  Then  you  must  not  break  it.  I  couldn't  accept 
my  rehabilitation  with  Gerard  at  that  price,  even  if  I 
desired  it." 

u  I  accepted  a  far  greater  sacrifice  from  you,  Irene," 
he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

The  tone  brought  the  starting  tears  into  her  eyes. 
Impulsively  she  rose  from  her  seat,  and  threw  herself 
on  her  knees  by  his  side,  her  hands  clasping  the  arm 
of  his  chair. 

"  Yes,  Hugh.  It  was  a  great  thing  that  I  did  for 
you.  But  gladly,  Hugh  dear,  gladly.  God  forbid  I 
should  regret  it  ever.  You  can  repay  me  by  granting 
me  any  request  I  make  you  in  the  name  of  what  I  did 
for  you — you  could  not  refuse." 

' '  You  have  me  in  your  power,  Renie.  My  life 
is  at  your  disposal." 

' '  Then  you  will  serve  me  in  the  truest  and  deepest 
16  241 


Idols 

way  by  keeping    faithful   to  your  word,    and   letting 
Gerard  take  this  course  undisturbed.      Promise  me." 

He  rose,  raised  her  to  her  feet,  and  kissed  her 
hands,  bending  over  them  in  the  courtly  way  that  re* 
called  vividly  to  her  mind  a  similar  action,  years 
ago,  when  he  had  first  pledged  himself  to  her  ser- 
vice. 

44  I  promise,"  he  said. 

She  smiled  shyly,  and  flushed  in  slight  embarrass- 
ment at  the  recollection. 

<(  I  am  glad  you  have  come  back,"  she  said, 
shall  feel  much  stronger.      A  woman  must  always  have 
something  outside  herself  to  lean  on.     We  are  pood 
things/' 

Hugh  protested.  She  was  apart  from  other  women. 
What  woman  alive  could  have  come  out  of  such  an 
ordeal  with  her  faith  in  humanity  unshaken,  with  her 
queenly  tenderness  unhardened  ?  What  woman  had 
the  crystalline  intellect  that  could  remain  undimmed 
by  the  soul's  gloom  and  could  pierce  through  it  to 
the  heart  of  things  ?  The  man's  pent-up  passion 
squandered  itself  in  hyperbole.  He  raised  her  to  trans- 
cendental heights  of  greatness.  She  stood,  with  her 
hands  clasped  in  front  of  her,  her  eyes  following  him 
as  he  paced  the  room  passionately  declaiming  her  ex-- 
ccllencies,  and  felt  an  odd  little  thrill  of  something 
like  happiness.  Here  at  least  was  a  man  who  be- 
lieved in  her;  a  genuine  man,  who  had  given  startling 

242 


Idols 

proof  of  heroism.  Her  clear  intelligence  rejected  the 
rhapsody  with  an  indulgent  smile,  but  her  woman's 
nature,  thirsting  for  comfort,  drank  in  the  praise. 

The  chime  of  the  black  marble  clock  on  the  mantel- 
piece warned  her  of  the  hour.  She  announced  her 
departure. 

"  You  will  see  me  through  this,  Hugh  ?  You  are 
the  only  one  left  that  I  can  trust." 

( '  The  only  help  I  can  give  you  is  inaction.  The 
hardest  for  an  impatient  man." 

u  You  can  talk  to  me  and  advise  me." 

"  Where  ?     I  cannot  visit  you." 

u  I  have  taken  a  flat.  Am  busy  furnishing.  In  a 
few  days  I  shall  be  installed  there.  Meanwhile  you 
can  help  me  to  fix  things  straight,  if  you  will.  That 
will  be  material  assistance.  Things  like  that  are  hard 
for  a  woman  alone." 

' '  It  will  make  me  almost  happy  and  light-hearted 
again,"  he  replied. 

They  moved  together  towards  the  door.  At  the 
threshold  he  paused  and  regarded  her  earnestly. 

£ '  Will  you  tell  me  one  thing,  Irene,  before  we  part 
to-night — frankly  and  honestly  ?  " 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  sudden  flutter  of 
anxiety. 

u  Is  it  possible  that  all  this  ruin  I  have  brought 
about  you  has  not  changed  your  feelings  towards  me— 
turned  them,  ever  so  little,  to  bitterness  ?  " 

243 


Idols 

His  heart  leapt  at  the  quick  radiance  that  came  into 
her  face. 

44  I   have   never  felt  till   now,  what  our  friendship 
really  meant." 

He  lay  awake  for  some  time  that  night,  lost  in  a 
great  wonder  at  the  staunch  steel  of  her  nature.  Here 
was  one  who  had  lost  everything  the  world  held  dear, 
husband,  home,  good-repute,  society,  work,  all  through 
him,  a  once  rejected  lover,  on  whom  she  had  bestowed 
her  friendship  for  her  husband's  sake,  and  a  word  ofl 
regret  had  never  passed  her  lips — still  less  a  word  of 
reproach;  her  old  loyal  friendship  had  come  bright] 
through  such  a  test  as  stains  and  fouls  the  fairest  com- 
radeship between  man  and  woman.  Did  the  earth 
elsewhere  hold  humanity  so  transcendent  r  The  com- 
moner needs  of  the  bruised  child  of  clay  that  might 
have  suggested  a  solution,  the  man  forgot  in  his  adora- 
tion. Up  till  now  she  had  been  the  great  and  hope- 
less love  of  his  life,  to  which  he  had  been  ever  loyal 
in  thought  and  word.  Henceforward  she  was  to  be 
the  divinity  of  his  impassioned  worship. 

The  deified  being,  unconscious  of  her  apotru 
but  only  feeling  a  heart-broken,  weary  woman,  cheered 
by  a  dear  and  loyal  friend,  reached  her  home  and 
found  two  letters  awaiting  her.  She  took  them  to  her 
bedroom  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  bed  to  read  them. 
The  first,  a  large  packet,  contained  a  collection  of 
tracts  and  religious  leaflets.  She  was  about  to  throw 

244 


Idols 

them  aside,  when  her  eye  caught  a  flaring  title :  < (  The 
Woman  who  Sinned  and  was  Saved."  The  other 
pamphlets  bore  analogous  inscriptions.  She  flushed 
hot  with  wrath  at  the  outrage — then  rose  and  tore  the 
insulting  papers  across  and  across  in  a  frenzy  of  indig- 
nation, and  threw  them  into  the  grate.  The  request 
of  the  committee  had  been  a  social  necessity,  to  which 
she  had  bowed  her  head  in  resignation.  The  insult 
of  this  anonymous  evangelist  scorched  her.  Forget- 
ting the  other  letter,  she  proceeded  to  undress,  anxious* 
to  get  into  the  darkness,  and  lay  her  burning  cheek 
upon  the  pillow.  She  thought  fiercely  of  Hugh,  of 
the  savage  joy  it  would  be  if  he  could  find  out  and 
horsewhip  the  offender.  But  before  she  extinguished 
her  light,  the  second  envelope  caught  her  attention. 
She  broke  it  open,  setting  her  teeth  against  fresh 
humiliation.  She  read  the  letter.  Then  sat  down 
on  the  bed  and  began  to  cry,  like  a  foolish  woman. 
It  was  only  a  little  note  from  Mrs.  Cahusac,  urging, 
with  delicate  tact,  the  claims  of  a  friend. 

Hugh  did  not  seek  out  Gerard.  Days  passed.  At 
last  they  met  one  morning  at  Sunnington  station. 
Hugh  marched  up  straight  to  him. 

u  You  are  a  pretty  blackguard,  Gerard  Mer- 
riam." 

Gerard  drew  up  his  big  frame  and  returned  his  old 
friend's  keen  gaze  with  a  stare. 

"  And  you?" 

245 


Idols 

"  I  am  an  honest  man,  and  in  your  heart  you  know 
it." 

"  Honesty  is  a  relative  term." 

'*  And  you  know  that  your  wife  is  a  pure  woman." 

"  Who  meets  you  on  your  arrival  in  England,  and 
spends  hours  with  you  in  a  private  room  of  an  hotel  ?  " 

u  Have  you  been  setting  spies  on  her?"  asked 
Hugh. 

"  I  follow  the  usual  course  adopted  by  men  in  my 
position." 

The  district  train  dashed  into  the  station. 

11  Irene  was  right,"  returned  Hugh,  turning  con- 
temptuously. <c  You  are  not  worth  trying  to  con- 
vince." 

They  entered  different  compartments,  left  the  train 
at  different  stations,  and  for  some  years  did  not  meet 
again  face  to  face. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THF  months  passed.  The  decree  nisi  was  pro- 
nounced, in  due  course  made  absolute.  It  was  a 
period  for  Irene  of  entire  calm  and  repose.  The 
strong  soul  braces  itself  to  stand  the  storm  of  great 
events;  in  the  dull  after-time  it  yields  to  the  beseech- 
ings  of  the  exhausted  flesh.  Day  after  day  Irene  read 
and  thought  and  rested,  scarcely  desirous  of  other 
pursuits.  Her  outlook  over  men  and  things  was  nar- 
rowed within  the  horizon  of  an  invalid  or  a  prisoner. 
The  waves  of  life  beat  unheeded  against  the  fortress 
of  her  seclusion.  Her  servant  Jane — who  had  begged 
to  be  taken  into  her  service  when  the  Sunnington 
establishment  was  broken  up,  on  Gerard's  going  abroad 
— the  Cahusacs,  and  Hugh  were  the  population  of 
her  universe.  During  these  months  of  reaction  and 
physical  and  moral  apathy,  she  desired  no  more  from 
life  than  immunity  from  its  stress.  An  ample  income, 
her  own  heritage,  kept  her  assured  against  material 
cares,  and  the  need  of  work  for  its  own  sake  was  stifled 
by  the  much  greater  need  of  self-reconstruction.  And 
even  after  the  healing  of  torn  fibres,  she  loved  the 
soothing  calm  of  her  lethargy. 
247 


Idols 

Then,  suddenly,  a  slight  shock  from  the  outer  world 
gave  a  necessary  stimulus.  Hugh  came  to  her  one 
afternoon,  in  great  excitement,  brandishing  an  evening 
paper. 

c<  The  mystery  is  cleared  at  last !  They  have  found 
the  murderers.  As  I  said  all  along — a  common, 
sordid  burglary !  " 

The  discovery  of  some  burglar's  tools  buried  in  the 
wood  behind  The  Lindens,  coupled  with  the  fact  that^ 
at  the  time  of  the  murder,  two  well-known  ticket-of«* 
leave  men  had  failed  to  report  themselves,  had  put  the 
police  on  the  track.  The  miscreants  were  captured. 

Irene  revived,  devoured  greedily,  during  the  sod 
cceding  weeks,  the  newspaper  reports  of  the  case* 
The  wretches  confessed  during  their  trial ;  were  event- 
ually hanged.  In  spite  of  her  own  public  disproof  of' 
Hugh's  guilt,  she  had  never  been  able  to  free  herself 
from  the  horrible  feeling  that  he  still  walked  before 
the  eyes  of  the  world  under  the  black  shadow  of  sus- 
picion. This  was  eternally  dispelled. 

u  Did  you  never  think  it  possible,"  said  Hugh  one 
day,  "  that  I  might  have  done  it — in  a  fit  of  an- 

44  You  would  have  given  yourself  up  and  faced  the 
consequences  like  a  man,"  replied  Irene. 

\\hcn  he  mused,  a  while  later,  on  the  saying,  a 
queer  feeling  of  pity  wove  itself  into  his  thoughts  of 
her.  If  she  only  could  see  mortality  in  those  upon 
whom  she  bestowed  her  affection  or  her  friendship! 

24S 


Idols 

The  awakened  spirit  of  the  woman  rose  with  a  hun- 
ger for  fresh  interests.  To  one  with  a  keen  mind,  a 
fervent  heart,  and  a  full  purse,  London  offers  no  lack 
of  occupation.  Gradually  she  gathered  round  her  a 
little  array  of  charitable  duties,  which  she  performed 
in  quiet,  unostentatious  fashion.  Again,  the  years  of 
happy  labour  had  borne  ripe  fruit  of  knowledge.  She 
showed  Hugh  one  day  an  article  which  she  had  written 
on  u  Some  Unrecorded  Facts  of  Infant  Mortality." 
In  his  enthusiastic  way  he  bore  it  off  to  an  editor  of 
his  acquaintance,  who  took  it  for  his  journal.  It  was 
the  beginning  of  a  series  of  articles  signed  u  Delta  J> 
that  attracted  considerable  attention.  Thus  Irene 
found  a  vocation.  But  being  a  very  human  woman, 
she  sighed  occasionally  for  that  which  she  had  surren- 
dered and  for  the  comfort  that  came  not. 

One  afternoon  Harro way  stood  in  the  street  comic- 
ally perturbed,  watching  the  retreating  figure  of  Hugh, 
who  had  marched  away  in  great  wrath.  He  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  returned  to  his  office;  but  the  per- 
turbation remained  and  accompanied  him  home.  It 
was  his  usual  experience  of  Hugh  Colman.  The 
man  was  like  a  cigar  that  smokes  mildly  and  comfort- 
ably until,  piff!  paff!  with  awful  unexpectedness, 
some  maliciously  secreted  gunpowder  sends  the  thing 
to  smithereens.  Thus  Harroway  summed  him  up  to 
his  wife,  during  that  evening's  dressing  hour,  while 
he  tied  his  white  tie.  The  imitations  of  the  explosion, 
249 


Idols 

interrupting  the  operation  and  endangering  the  cambric, 
brought  down  conjugal  rebuke. 

4 *  Your  usual  tact,  I  suppose,  my  dear/'  said  his 
wife  suavely. 

Harroway  waited  until  the  two  little  pats  announced 
that  he  was  well  and  duly  cravatted  and  then  burst  out. 
Tact !      If  he   had   to   humour  Mr.    Hugh   Col  man, 
whom  on  earth  was  he  to  speak  straight  to  ?     A  man 
who  owed  his   first  brief  to  him.      A  man  whom  hel 
had  set  his  heart  on  making  the  most  brilliant  advo- 
cate  of  the   day — who   had   egregiouslv  disappointed 
him.      A  man   for  whom  he  was  even  now  trying  tcl 
build  up  a  chancery  practice — Tact,  indeed! 

44  You've  said  that  so  often,  my  dear/'  x.ml  his 
wife.  44  If  only  you  would  tell  me  why  he  exploded 
to-day  I  might  more  readily  sympathise  with  you." 

Harroway  explained.  He  had  been  lunching  with 
Chevasse  the  artist.  Talk  had  fallen  upon  Hugh  and 
Mrs.  Merriam.  Chevasse,  very  broad-minded  and 
kindly  disposed  to  them  both,  had  been  talking  the 
matter  over  with  the  Cahusacs.  Mrs.  Cahusac,  of 
course,  was  unconventional  enough  to  keep  in  with 
Mrs.  Merriam,  but  M :-.  C  hevasse  was  like  Harro- 
way's  own  Selina,  and  drew  certain  lines. 

44  Very     rightly,"     interrupted     Mrs.     Ham 
44  Hard  and  fast.      Marriage  lines." 

"Precisely,"     said     Harroway.       44  That 
Chcvasse's    attitude    also.      I   uphold  you.      I'm  fond 

250 


Idols 

of  them  both.      I  help  Hugh  all  I  can.     Would  help 
her  if  I  could,  but   I'm  not  going  to  visit  a  woman 
my  wife   doesn't  visit.      And   my  wife  doesn't  coun- 
tenance irregular  liaisons.      I'm  old-fashioned  enough 
to  agree  with  you   fully.      Let  them  get  married  de- 
cently and  we'd  stretch  a  point.      So  would  the  Che- 
yasses.      One  or  two  others  doubtless  would  be  ready 
meet   them.      I   dare   say  Gardiner  and   his  wife, 
verybody  is  sorry  for  them.      As  sorry  as  they  are 
)r  Merriam.      Somehow  the  luridness  of  the  tragedy 
sposes  people  to  forgive  them." 

The  man's  pluck  was  heroic.  Almost  an  atone- 
icnt  in  itself,"  said  Mrs.  Harroway. 
u  Almost.  So  was  the  woman's.  But  there  is 
ie  eternal  law,  you  know.  Hundreds  of  women 
ould  be  glad  to  meet  Colman.  You  would,  Selina. " 
"  Yes,"  she  replied  frankly,  "  I  should  be  willing 
receive  him,  but  he  won't  come." 
"  That's  where  I  admire  the  man.  He  mixes  with 
en.  Of  course  he's  obliged  to.  But  he  won't 
•oss  the  threshold  of  a  woman  who  doesn't  receive 
ene  Merriam.  He's  a  strong-willed  devil,  and  he'll 
ick  to  that  all  his  life.  Selina,  I  wish  to  goodness 
could  believe  the  story  she  told  Merriam!  «  But  it's 
eyond  possibility,  and  the  other  is  only  too  miserably 
uman." 

If  you  want  to  get  to  Mr.  Colman's  explosion, 
sfore  the  people  come  to  dinner,  Algernon,  you  had 
251     . 


Idols 

better  make  haste,"  said  his  wife,  fan  and  gloves  in 
hand,  advancing  with  the  calm  of  buxom  years  to  the 
ottoman  where  he  was  sitting. 

"  It  will  take  you  half  an  hour  to  put  on  your  new 
gloves,  my  dear/'  he  retorted.  He  emphasised  the 
fact  of  their  newness,  because  he  had  brought  them 
home  with  him  that  afternoon. 

44  So  like  a  man,"  murmured  Mrs.  Harroway. 

"  Well,  sit  down  and  I'll  tell  you,"  he  said,  making 
room  for  her  on  the  ottoman. 

She  sat  and  busied  herself  with  the  gloves,  and 
Harroway  relapsed  into  narrative.  In  the  middle  of 
the  discussion  with  Chevasse,  in  walked  Hugh.  The 
restaurant  was  one  of  his  usual  haunts.  Sat  down  it 
their  table,  and  talked  about  things  in  general  in  the 
charmingest  of  moods.  One  would  have  thought 
him  the  mildest  mannered  man — like  Lambro. 

44  Like  wht?  "  said  Mrs.  Harroway. 

44  Don't  interrupt,  we  haven't  time,"  replied  Harro- 
way with  a  chuckle. 

He  resumed.  Chevasse  went  away,  leaving  him 
alone  with  Hugh.  They  had  coffee,  liqueurs,  and 
cigars.  Things  very  comfortable.  Harroway  en- 
quired after  Mrs.  Mcrriam.  She  was  well,  though 
of  course  feeling  the  quietness  of  her  life.  She  was 
writing  on  social  subjects,  under  a  pseudonym,  and 
naking  a  little  reputation.  But  it  was  hitter  for 
her.  Here  was  the  chance.  What  need  of  tact  ? 

253 


Idols 

hy  didn't  he  marry  her  ?  Hugh  twirled  his  mous- 
tache. Selina  knew  the  way.  Began  to  look  danger- 
ous. He  supposed  that  was  what  everybody  was  ask- 
ing. There  was  no  question  of  marriage  between 
them.  Never  had  been.  Never  would  be.  He 
drank  off  his  coffee,  threw  away  his  cigar,  and  put  his 
hands  in  his  pockets.  He  worshipped  the  ground  she 
trod  on,  said  he;  would  give  up  his  life  for  her  any 
day.  But  no  idea  of  marriage. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Harroway,  wide-eyed. 

u  I  don't  know.  How  should  I  ?  I  said  it  was 
his  duty.  Replies  that  he  knows  where  his  duty  lies. 
I  suggest  that  society  demands  it.  He  damns  society. 
I  get  him  to  listen  to  me.  Tell  him  about  Chevasse. 
He  looks  at  me  with  those  blue  sword-blade  eyes  of 
his,  just  as  he  looked  at  Hanna  at  the  trial.  'It's  for 
her  sake,'  I  said.  (  Pardon  an  old  friend's  bluntness.' 
1  Of  course  I  pardon  anything  you  choose  to  say,  you 
enow  that  well  enough, '  he  replied.  So  I  went  on ; 
told  him  that  every  woman  in  her  position  was  not 
offered  such  a  chance  of  social  recognition.  He  calls 
:he  waiter,  tosses  him  some  silver,  waves  him  away 
with  a  lordly  gesture  as  he  fumbles  for  change,  and 
gets  up.  I  accompany  him  to  the  street.  'It's  very 
;ood  of  your  wife  and  Chevasse — tell  them  so,'  says 
he,  (  but  I'm  not  going  to  do  it.'  *  Well,'  I  said, 
it's  scarcely  honourable,  Hugh.'  Whereupon  he 
jrips  me  on  the  shoulder — the  rheumatic  one,  my 

253 


Idols 

dear;  I  feel  it  now — and  bawls  out,  *  Damn  it,  man, 
if  you  think  me  an  infernal  blackguard  say  so  at  once/ 
I  was  nettled — also  in  physical  pain — so  I  did  say  it. 
And  then  he  gave  his  shoulders  a  shrug  and  stalked 
away  like  a  madman." 

Mrs.  Harroway  looked  at  him  demurely.  4i  I  sup- 
pose you  think  you  managed  it  all  beautifully."  Then 
she  laughed.  But  Harroway  got  up  indignant. 

"Hang  it  all,  Selina!"  he  exclaimed,  4t  I  did 
expect  a  little  sympathy  from  you." 

Whereupon  she  mollified  him,  so  that  he  should  eat 
his  dinner  with  an  unruffled  mind,  and  thus  avoid 
indigestion.  A  wife's  thoughtfulness  is  often  very 
far-reaching. 

Meanwhile  Hugh  had  marched  away  in  great  wrath 
from  his  friend  and  benefactor.  A  man  in  a  false 
position  is  apt  to  be  unreasonable.  Harroway  should 
have  taken  it  for  granted  he  was  acting  honourably  to 
Irene.  Society  generally  ought  to  take  it  for  granted. 
The  irony  of  his  friends'  kind  suggestion  was  a  red 
rag  to  his  anger.  Marry  her!  It  was  a  palpitating 
\  i>ion  of  a  paradise  in  this  world  for  which  he  would 
cheerfully  accept  damnation  in  the  next.  Even  were 
he  not  tied  to  Minna  for  life,  and  were  free  to  ask 
Irene,  sheer  honour  and  loyalty  forbade  him  to  go  to  her 
with  protestations  of  passion.  She  did  not  love  him 
in  the  common  way  of  women.  Thus  there  was  a 
double  barrier  to  the  fool  wish  of  that  composite  fool 

254 


Idols 

society!  And  the  maddening  part  of  it  was  the  im- 
possibility of  saying  the  words  and  bringing  forward 
the  proofs  to  convince  it  of  its  folly. 

If  he  had  loved  her  loyally  through  her  married  life, 
he  loved  her  now  with  a  new  reverence.  A  new 
sacredness  had  arisen  in  his  conception  of  his  attitude 
toward  her,  such  as  had  not  hitherto  invested  his 
thoughts  of  women,  and  her  influence  had  made  itself 
felt  in  his  work-a-day  life.  He  had  vowed  he  would 
never  again  plead  in  a  criminal  court,  and  had  kept  his 
vow.  He  was  struggling  to  carve  out  a  career  in 
chancery  practice.  He  had  to  supplement  his  income 
with  irregular  journalism.  It  was  a  hard  battle;  but 
he  was  not  a  beaten  man.  If  he  needed  stimulus 
there  were  flashing  goads  in  Irene's  eyes. 

On  this  evening  he  had  arranged  to  dine  with  her 
at  seven.  It  had  just  struck  the  hour  when  he  arrived 
at  her  flat  in  Kensington.  Jane,  who  opened  the 
door,  greeted  him  with  a  smile,  hung  up  his  overcoat, 
and  showed  him  into  the  drawing-room.  Irene  threw 
down  her  book  beside  her  on  the  sofa,  and  rose  in  her 
quick,  impulsive  fashion. 

( (  At  last.  You  are  two  minutes  late.  They  have 
been  tedious." 

He  looked  at  her,  his  eyes  strangely  blinded.  The 
gradation  from  her  customary  laughing  tenderness  into 
something  tenderer  had  been  imperceptible.  Perhaps 
to  her  as  much  as  to  him. 

255 


Idols 

44  A  welcome  like  that  is  sweet  after  a  day's  work," 
he  said.  <4  And  I  haven't  seen  you  for  forty-eight 
hour 

44  Very  dull  ones,  I  assure  you.  I  have  striven  to 
improve  them.  A  harder  task  than  the  busy  in- 
sect's." 

44  Gathering  honey  out  of  blue-books  ?  " 

He  indicated  a  couple  of  government  publications 
lying  open,  face  downwards,  on  an  arm-chair. 

4  Horrid  things!"  cried  Irene,  pouncing  on  them 
and  stowing  them  beneath  a  chiffbnnicr  on  the  other 
side  of  the  room.  4(  I  am  tired  of  them.  Let  us  be 
happy  this  evening,  and  forget  their  existence." 

A  glance  of  surprised  questioning  met  her.  Usually 
she  was  eager  to  talk  of  her  pursuits. 

"  I  have  a  great  need  of  happiness,  you  know, 
Hugh,"  she  continued,  rather  defiantly.  44  I  could 
suck  up  an  ocean  of  it,  like  an  infinite  sponge 

Then  she  laughed,  and  turning  away  to  her  writing 
table  swept  the  loose  sheets  of  manuscript  lying  on  it 
into  a  drawer. 

44  You  see,  I'm  beginning  to  cultivate  nerves 

He  watched  her  somewhat  anxiously.  She  was 
looking  pale  this  evening,  and  her  grey  eyes  were 
more  lustrous  than  usual.  A  faint  pearl-coloured 
gown  unrelieved  by  a  spot  of  brighter  colour  accentu- 
ated the  delicacy  of  her  face. 

44  You  are  overworking    yourself,    Rcnie.      Need- 
256 


Idols 

Icssly.     You  want  a  holiday — a  change  to  sunshine 
and  blue  skies." 

"I  want  my  dinner, "  said  Irene.  **Here  it 
is." 

Jane  made  formal  announcement.  They  went  into 
the  little  dining-room,  where  the  table  was  daintily  set 
with  flowers,  bright  silver  and  glass. 

"You  are  wrong,"  she  said  quietly,  as  she  helped 
the  soup.  "I  am  not  overworking  myself.  I  sleep 
like  a  top  and  haven't  an  ache  or  pain  in  my  body." 

"  Still  a  change  of  air  would  do  you  no  harm." 

She  assented  with  idle  interest.  Where  should  she 
go  ?  He  suggested  Spain.  Zaraws,  not  far  from  St. 
Sebastian,  on  the  Bay  of  Biscay;  fairly  secure  from 
English;  warm,  picturesque,  with  the  comforts  of  a 
civilised  hotel.  From  personal  acquaintance  he 
launched  forth  into  glowing  description.  The  golden 
sands  and  the  purple  seas  of  the  south.  The  olive 
gardens  with  their  shivering  silver  and  green.  The 
dark-eyed  Basques.  The  wealth  of  sun  and  colour. 
Irene  leant  her  elbow  on  the  table  and  her  eyes  dwelt 
softly  on  him. 

u  Does  it  please  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

u  The  way  you  talk  of  it  does.  I  would  sooner 
have  that.  It  does  me  more  good.  You  always 
speak  as  if  the  subject  of  the  moment  were  the  one 
interest  of  your  life.  I  wish  you  had  a  parliamentary 
career  before  you." 

17  257 


Idols 

He  laughed.  c<  That  is  dangerously  near  satire, 
Reni 

11  Women  only  use  satire  when  they  want  in 
and  to  hurt  deeply,"  she  said.      "  I  want  to — "      She  I 
stopped,  embarrassed. 

' '  What  1"    he- asked. 

Her  eyes  fell  before  his.  She  made  a  pretence  of  | 
eating.  Jane  entered  with  the  next  course.  ThejJB 
discussed  the  weather,  until  she  had  retired. 

<c  What  could  I  do  to  make  your  life  happier, 
Renie  ?  "  he  asked.  A  futile  question;  yet  men  will 
continue  to  put  it. 

<c  What  can  I  do  to  make  yours  happier  ?     Th 
the  all-important  point  to  me." 

"Nothing,"   he  said   in  a  low  voice.      <(  Th 
che  happiest  time  of  my  life." 

tc  There  is  nothing  I  could  do— beyond  asking 
to  dinner  ?  " 

(<  Nothing,"  he  repeated.  "If  there  were,  I 
should  tell  you." 

<(  You  have  only  to  ask,"  said  Irene. 

Woman  could  say  no  more.      There  was  a  short 

silence.      Hugh  understood — yet  did  not  divine.      The 

inner  man  fell  at  her  feet,  blessing  her  for  her  sweet 

graciousness  of  surrender.      He  was   fine  enough   to 

perceive  that   she  was  grateful  to  him  for  restraining 

expression  of  the  love  long  known  to  her,  and  that  her 

Js  were  meant  to  relieve  him  of  the  obligation  to 

258 


Idols 

which  he  had  bound  himself.  But  it  was  divine  and 
tender  charity.  Nothing  more.  It  was  her  way  to 
reward  royally  out  of  proportion  to  services  rendered. 

u  Life  is  a  queer  tangle,"  he  remarked  after  a 
while. 

u  The  art  of  unravelling  it  is  the  art  of  living. 
But  one  must  hold  the  master  thread." 

"  The  master  thread  is  work,"  said  Hugh,  forcing 
his  tone  to  lightness. 

"No." 

"  What  is  it,  then?" 

She  did  not  answer.  A  little  involuntary  sigh  flut- 
tered her  bosom. 

u  I  wish  I  could  put  you  back  into  your  bright 
circle,  Renie,"  he  said,  putting  his  own  interpretation 
upon  her  mood.  With  Harroway's  words  fresh  in  his 
memory,  his  heart  grew  heavy. 

u  Yes,  I  miss  my  friends, "she  replied  absently. 

The  talk  dropped  a  little.  She  stayed  with  him 
while  he  smoked  his  cigarette,  and  then  they  went  into 
the  drawing-room.  Hugh  drew  her  chair  to  the  fire, 
set  a  footstool  for  her  feet,  and  placed  a  cushion  be- 
hind her  head.  She  thanked  him  shyly,  trying  to 
keep  back  a  rush  of  thoughts.  Gerard  had  never  done 
such  a  thing  for  her  in  his  life.  Suddenly  tears  came 
into  her  eyes.  Hugh  bent  over  her,  in  some  concern. 

"  My  poor  Renie." 

She  smiled  as  she  wiped  the  tears  away. 
259 


Idols 

<(  The  past  sometimes  hurts,"  she  said.  "  But  the 
present  is  healing  it." 

Again  their  talk  languished,  strangely  lacking  spon- 
taneity. The  breath  of  a  new  influence  was  hovering 
round  them.  At  last  Hugh  rose  to  go. 

u  You  look  so  tired  that  I  won't  keep  you  up  any 
longer.  God  bless  you  for  what  you  have  said  this 
evening." 

She  turned  her  head  aside  quickly  and  began  to 
tremble  a  little.  He  could  see  the  flush  rising  on  the 
sweet  contours  of  her  temples,  and  losing  itself  in  the 
shadow  of  her  hair.  "  Then  you  did  understand  ?  " 
she  murmured. 

t(  Yes.  But  it  was  the  angel  and  not  the  woman 
that  spoke,"  he  said  rather  huskily.  "  Besides,  I 
could  never  ask  you  for  what  I  did  not  feel  myself 
free  to  accept." 

She  turned  and  faced  him,  looking  him  bravely  in 
the  eyes,  while  the  flush  flamed  into  scarlet. 

"  You  will  never  think — as  other  men  might 
think ?" 

Her  insinuation  flashed  for  the  first  time  through 
his  mind — that  she  was  urging  him  to  marry  her  for 
social  reasons. 

"  Good  God,  no!  "  he  said.  "  Don't  speak  of 
it." 

A  moment  afterwards  they  parted,  and  Hugh  rushed 
down  the  stairs  with  his  temples  buzzing. 

260 


CHAPTER  XIX 

HER  divine  and  selfless  nature  had  made  the  offer. 
He  had  unequivocally  refused  it.  The  incident  was 
therefore  closed.  Ostrich-wise  he  hid  his  head  from 
its  consequent  influences  in  their  relations,  and  re- 
garded them  as  non-existent.  That  was  the  humor- 
ous aspect  of  his  moral  attitude.  On  the  other  hand 
he  believed  in  himself  and  in  his  strength  of  will  to 
withstand  temptation.  He  knew  that  Irene  was  too 
strong  and  proud  a  woman  to  desire  marriage  with  him 
as  a  social  rehabilitation.  In  fact,  the  thought  insulted 
her.  He  could  not  conceive  that  she  loved  him, 
wanted  him  for  her  own  sake.  As  for  himself,  he 
could  set  his  teeth  and  defy  the  heart-hunger.  Should 
she  speak  again,  he  would  disclose  to  her  the  fact  of 
his  marriage.  He  hoped  that  no  necessity  would  arise. 

Some  weeks  passed.  They  saw  each  other  fre- 
quently, but  there  were  many  little  flaws  in  the  frank- 
ness of  their  intercourse  to  which  he  wilfully  blinded 
himself.  There  were  times  when  a  chance  sweetness 
of  look  or  phrase  set  his  heart  beating  madly;  when, 
also,  a  chance  wistfulness  in  her  manner  brought  back 
vividly  the  full  meaning  of  Harroway's  offer,  and  made 

261 


Idols 

him  curse  its  futility.  After  a  while  she  appeared  to 
grow  less  cheerful.  She  would  regard  him  with  a 
little  tender  air  of  surprised  reproach,  which  he  attrib- 
uted to  the  weariness  of  her  lot.  One  Saturday  night 
they  walked  from  Bedford  Square,  where  the  Cahusacs 
lived,  to  Hyde  Park  Corner,  before  they  took  the 
omnibus  for  High  Street,  Kensington.  In  spite  of 
the  bright  evening  they  had  just  spent,  the  walk  was 
singularly  silent.  Towards  the  end  she  leaned  on  his 
arm,  feeling  tired.  Involuntarily  he  drew  her  closer 
to  him,  but  the  constraint  grew  greater.  In  the 
omnibus  he  asked  her  whether  she  felt  down-hearted. 
She  alleged  a  headache.  His  ready  sympathy  sprang 
to  her.  Why  had  she  walked  all  that  distance  ?  To 
see  whether  exercise  would  remedy  it,  she  replied. 

"  Life  is  weighing  upon  you,  Renie,"  he  said,  as 
he  parted  from  her  at  her  door. 

c<  It  is  Hugh — a  little/'  she  answered.  And  the 
stone-staircase  was  not  too  dimly  lighted  for  him  not 
to  perceive  once  more  the  curious,  reproachful  surprise 
in  her  glance. 

He  went  away  full  of  passionate  remorse  for  what 
he  had  brought  upon  her.  Her  life  was  crushing  her. 
A  desperate  remedy  flashed  through  his  mind.  A  ter- 
rible temptation.  Yet  keenly  sensitive  to  that  within 
him  which  concerned  Irene,  he  perceived  an  ugly  leer- 
ing selfishness  beneath  the  surface,  and  he  put  the 
temptation  from  him. 

262 


Idols 

Meanwhile  the  series  of  articles  over  the  signature 
u  Delta"  had  attracted  attention.  Her  identity 
leaked  out.  A  paragraph  appearing  in  the  literary 
notes  of  one  journal,  and  copied  by  several  others, 
revealed  it  to  the  general  public.  In  these  modern 
days  a  pseudonym  is  as  effective  a  disguise  as  a  jacket 
worn  inside  out.  She  was  disturbed  in  mind,  dreading 
publicity.  u  Delta  "  had  become  as  soiled  a  name  as 
"  Irene  Merriam."  Would  not  that  lessen  the 
influence  of  her  work?  Men  would  pass  her  articles 
by  with  a  contemptuous  shrug,  and  her  appeals  would 
be  unheeded.  Xo  cry  in  the  wilderness  is  task  enough ; 
to  cry  in  a  voice  scorned  by  the  few  stragglers  who 
hear,  would  have  depressed  the  Baptist  himself. 

Then  there  came  a  day,  shortly  after  her  walk 
from  Bedford  Square  with  Hugh,  when  Jane  brought 
her  a  gentleman's  card  bearing  a  name  with  which  she 
was  unfamiliar  and  a  pencilled  legend — u  Women's 
Democratic  League. ' '  She  decided  to  see  the  visitor. 
A  red-haired  man  with  dubious  linen  and  persuasive 
manners  was  admitted.  She  motioned  him  to  a  chair. 
He  put  his  hat  on  the  ground  and  explained  his  mis- 
sion. Her  articles  had  been  so  appreciated  by  the 
League  that  he  had  been  deputed  to  invite  her  to  lec- 
ture on  behalf  of  that  body.  Irene  was  gratified  but 
alarmed.  Writing  was  one  thing,  lecturing  another. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  refuse,"  she  told  the  man,  "  but 
I  have  given  up  my  little  attempts  at  public  life." 

263 


Idols 

44  That  is  a  great  pity,  Mrs.  Mcrriam.  So  many 
would  welcome  you  back  again.  Do  think  over  it^, 
We  can  promise  you  a  most  enthusiastic  audience. 
In  fact,  we  might  scheme  out  a  short  tour — all  expenses 
paid  and  a  handsome  percentage  on  the  takings.  Your 
name  would  draw." 

44  You  are  mistaken/'   said  Irene  frankly.       4t  He- 
sides -" 

41  Oh,  no,"  he  interrupted  quickly.      <c  Your  name 
is  so  well  known — all  over  England.      People  would 
run  to  see  you.    Putting  things  on  a  commercial  basis,! 
so  long  as  people  come,  their  object  doesn't  matter." 

Then    Irene   saw.       For  a  moment,  she  gasped  for 
breath.      It  was  a  calm  proposal  to  make  capital  out 
of  her  notoriety.      She  rose  and  pressed  the  clectricjj 
bell  by  her  side,  and  turned  upon  him  with  flaming 
cheeks,  and  anger  in  her  eyes. 

44  How  dare  you!  "   she  cried. 

The  man  took  up  his  hat  and  broke  into  apologies. 
Jane  appeared  at  the  door. 

44  Show  this  person  out,"   said  Irene. 

The  democratic  delegate  retired  ignominiously. 
Irene  walked  about  the  room,  mechanically  rearranging 
perfectly  orderly  arranged  trifles,  in  the  feminine  way, 
dazed  with  wrath  and  humiliation.  A  short  while 
afterwards,  she  did  not  know  whether  to  rage  againstl 
the  abandoned  cynicism  of  the  proposal,  or  to  laugh 
cynically  at  her  own  touching  simplicity  in  the  matter 

264 


Idols 

of  her  former  mental  disquietude.  In  the  midst  of 
her  anger  arrived  Elinor  Cahusac  on  a  flying  call. 
Irene  related  the  scene  midway  between  tears  and 
laughter.  Mrs.  Cahusac  listened,  sympathised,  and, 
as  soon  as  she  reached  her  home,  informed  her  hus- 
band of  the  insult  that  had  been  offered  to  Irene. 
And  the  next  afternoon  Cahusac,  meeting  Hugh  by 
chance  in  the  Strand,  repeated  his  wife's  story.  An 
hour  later  Hugh  was  ringing  furiously  at  Irene's 
door. 

He  found  her  sitting  before  the  fire,  with  her  writ- 
ing-board on  her  lap.  She  raised  startled  eyes  as  he 
entered,  laid  his  hat  and  stick  on  a  table,  and  came  to 
her  side.  She  rose  instinctively,  leaving  the  board  on 
the  broad  arm  of  the  chair. 

u  Is  what  Cahusac  tells  me  true,  Renie?  "  he  cried 
impetuously — u  about  that  scoundrel  insulting  you 
yesterday  ? ' ' 

u  I  told  Elinor  something." 

c (  And  why  did  you  not  tell  me  last  evening  ?  * ' 

( (  What  use  would  there  be  in  worrying  you  for 
nothing?  "  she  replied  evasively. 

The  light  of  the  chandelier  beneath  which  she  was 
standing  fell  upon  her  averted  face.  The  heaviness 
of  her  eyelids  struck  him;  a  crumpled  ball  of  a  hand- 
kerchief in  her  hand  confirmed  the  betraying  lids. 

<c  And  I  come  in  unexpectedly  and  find  you  crying. 
You  would  not  have  told  me  the  cause  of  that  eithe*" 

265 


Idols 

44  I  have  no  right  to  worry  you,"  she  replied 
again. 

44  I  wish  to  God  I  had  the  right  to  make  you," 
he  cried  passionately,  goaded  by  the  insult  offered 
her  and  by  the  evidence  of  her  unhappiness. 

11  I  don't  think  you  do,"   she  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"  I ;  "    he  queried. 

Taking  her  by  the  wrist,  he  impulsively  led  her 
to  the  sofa  and  seated  her  by  his  side. 

44  This  state  of  things  cannot  go  on,"  he  said 
harshly.  4<  We  are  losing  each  other.  I  must  ex- 
plain. I  will  tell  you  about  that  woman,  the  one 
you  know  of." 

Irene  started  away  from  him,  as  though  the  word 
were  a  lash. 

14  Is  she  between  us?  I  don't  want  to  hear  a  breath 
of  her.  I  won't  listen.  What  is  she  to  me?  Let  us 
continue  in  the  old  way." 

44  We  have  come  to  the  end  of  it,"  said  Hugh. 

44  Do  you  love  her?  "  she  asked,  fiercely. 

44  I  have  every  reason  to  hate  and  despise  her," 
said  Hugh  between  his  teeth.  c<  You  know  very 
well  that  I  love  you  with  every  fibre  of  my  being." 

Irene  held  him  with  her  eyes.  The  few  seconds 
seemed  an  incalculable  time. 

44  And  you  know  that  I  love  you  with  all  my  heart 
and  soul.      So  why  will  you  not  take  me?  "   she  - 
slowly. 

266 


Idols 

He  sprang  to  his  feet. 
"  You  love  me— like  that?  " 

The  great  wonder  of  glory  that  suddenly  held  his 
soul  in  awe,  shone  from  his  eyes,  dazzling  and  con- 
fusing the  woman,  whose  own  lowered  tremulously. 
"  Like  that?  "   he  repeated.      "  Say  it  again." 
u  I   have   told   you  too  much  already,"   she  mur- 
mured.     And  then  the  woman's  tears  and  tenderness 
all  gushed  forth,  and  she  raised  swimming  eyes  to  him. 
"  Oh,  Hugh  dear,  why  did  you  make  me  tell  you?  " 
In  a  moment  she  was  sobbing  in  his  arms,  clinging 
to  him,  yielding  herself  to  the  ecstatic  solace.      Half 
hamed,  she  drooped  her  head  and  hid  her  face  against 
ris   breast,  and   he   held  her  tightly  to  him.       Then 
here  was  a  long  great  silence.       The  woman's  heart 
[rank  thirstily  of  the  intoxicating  flood  of  happiness. 
But  the  man's  burned  white  hot  in  the  stress  of  ago- 
lising  conflict.       She  could  not  see  his  drawn  face.  ~ 
iis   short  sharp  breathing  only  told  her  of  emotion 
oo  deep  for  words.      Its  pain  did  not  pierce  through 
ler  bliss.      Her  fair  head  rested  contentedly  against 
he   molten   furnace.       Through    such    brief,    fierce, 
>oul-scorching  fires  come  the  tremendous  decisions  of 
ife. 

"  Will  you  marry  me,  Irene?  "   he  said  at  last. 
She  moved   her  head    for   a  moment,  like  a  child. 
Then   she    raised   it,  and   drew   herself  gently    from 
lim. 

267 


Idols 

44  Do  you  know  why  I  was  crying — a  woman  is  a 
fool,  Hugh  dear — when  you  came  in?  " 

14  Why 

44  I  thought  you  did  not  want  me.  It  was  bitter. 
A  turning  of  the  tables." 

44  Since  when  have  you  loved  me?  "   he  asked. 

(  I  don't  know.  Always,  perhaps,"  she  replied, 
turning  away.  44  It's  a  question  you  must  never  ask 
me." 

How  or  when  it   had  come  she  knew  not.       What 
woman   does?      Often   she   may  point   back  to  some 
spring   morning  of  the  heart,   when  love  burst   into 
blossom,  and  say :  "  Then  I  knew."     But  she  is  aware 
that  the  petals  had  long  lain  delicately  folded   in  the 
sheaths,  and   is  dimly  reminiscent  of  growth  and  cxm 
pansion.       To  the  how   and   when  of  that    she   cajfj 
return  no  answer.      But  Irene  looked  back  and  found 
strange  tendernesses  working  darkly  through  all   the 

years.       Could    it    have    been    possible ?       Her 

womanhood  shrank  frightened  from  the  suggestion- 
then  tiptoed,  with  held  breath,  up  to  it  again.  The 
union  of  the  two  men  in  her  affection  had  dated  from 
the  first  day  they  had  spoken  to  her  on  the  P.  &  CBj 
steamer,  and  it  had  existed  continuously  until  one 
broke  away,  leaving  the  other  untouched.  Hugh's 
loyal  love  for  her  had  been  one  of  the  inner  glories  of 
her  life.  She  had  felt  it  to  be  the  complement  CD 
rard's.  So  much  was  clear.  But  was  her  own 
•61 


Idols 

affection  for  Hugh  complementary  to  her  love  for 
Gerard?  Could  her  feelings  towards  Gerard  have 
maintained  their  homogeneousness  without  the  other 
influence?  Was  it,  in  brief,  an  inextricable  dual  love? 
She  found  no  answers.  All  was  a  mystery — like  the 
colour  of  an  opal,  with  an  elusive  white  of  shame. 
Yet  no  thought  of  longing  unsatisfied  had  ever  tinged 
the  purity  of  her  wifely  worship.  There  her  soul  was 
free  from  doubt.  Yet  again,  on  the  other  hand,  Hugh 
had  ever  been  inexpressibly  dear  to  her.  The  cult 
of  their  idealised  brotherhood  had  further  fused  these 
complex  emotions  together,  thereby  rendering  the 
mystery  more  inscrutable. 

u  I  can  never  tell  you,"  she  repeated.  u  Never. 
Oh,  Hugh  dear,  I  have  been  so  lost  and  lonely." 

His  arm  closed  protectingly  round  her. 

"  Forgive  me,  dear,"  she  said.  u  I  once  thought 
you  a  weak  man — perhaps  that  is  why  I  did  not  love 
you  at  first.  But  now  I  know  that  you  are  strong — 
and  I  need  your  strength." 

That  was  the  deep  key-note  of  her  happiness. 
Once  she  had  compared  the  two  men ;  rock  and  shift- 
ing sand.  Idolatry  had  inverted  her  vision.  It  had 
been  shifting  sand  and  rock.  She  was  safe  on  the 
rock  now.  Often,  lately,  had  she  looked  back,  in 
sickened  wonder,  upon  that  idolatry.  The  whole  of 
her  true  life  with  Gerard  had  revealed  itself:  the  dull 
taciturnity  she  had  revered  as  strength,  the  ungra- 

269 


Idols 

cious  compliances  she  had  raised  to  tendernesses  or 
noble  actions,  the  hundred  faults  she  had  transfigured 
to  virtues.  In  vain  she  looked  for  one  sparkling  deed, 
one  act  of  unselfishness,  one  spontaneous  loving  caress 
that  she  had  treasured,  even  one  proof  of  more  than 
common  mental  attainment.  In  the  very  work-a-day 
business  of  life  he  had  deceived  her;  his  practice  at 
the  bar  was  worth  little  or  nothing.  She  was  stupe- 
fied at  her  own  delusion. 

But  now  she  was  safe.  Now  she  looked  back  upon 
Hugh's  life,  and  saw  it  filled  with  innumerable  deeds 
of  devotion  and  loyalty.  His  brilliance  in  the  world 
was  a  matter  not  of  blind  faith  but  of  direct  testimony. 
His  heroism  had  not  been  potential  but  actually  dis- 
played. Twice  she  had  known  him  to  face  death. 
Once  to  save  his  friend's  life.  Once  to  save  a 
woman's  honour.  Of  the  latter  she  was  convinced. 
Convinced  also  of  his  impeccability  as  regards  the  wo- 
man. On  the  part  this  creature  had  played  in  his  life 
she  was  too  proud  to  speculate.  He  did  not  love  her. 
That  was  certain.  It  sufficed  the  hungering  woman. 
The  strong  soul  refused  to  seek  further.  Yes,  she  was 
safe;  the  foundations  of  her  life  laid  on  the  living 
rock.  The  overwhelming  happiness  of  it ! 

She  stood  before  him  radiant.  A  black  silk  blouse, 
with  frilled  upstanding  collar  lightly  caressing  her 
throat,  heightened  the  glow  in  her  face.  He  had 
studied  its  infinite  variety  of  expression,  and  knew  it 

270 


Idols 

in  all  its  phases,  enthusiasm,  anger,  sorrow,  gentle- 
ness. To-day  it  was  a  revelation.  To  only  one 
man  in  her  life  can  a  woman  reveal  the  full  glory  of 
her  soul  and  sex.  The  last  shreds  of  his  compunc- 
tion were  swept  away  by  a  mighty  wave  of  pride. 

"  I  would  have  gone  through  hell-fire  to  win  you," 
he  said. 

She  smiled,  happily  unconscious  of  his  allusion,  and 
replied  in  tender  raillery. 

1 '  You  have  only  had  to  go  through  the  hollow  form 
of  asking  me.  Was  it  so  hard  ? ' ' 

u  I  should  never  have  asked  you  to  marry  me  out 
of  pity." 

*k  I  knew  that,"  she  replied.  u  And  now — are  you 
sure  that  you  will  be  happy  ?  " 

"  Happy  ?"  he  echoed. 

He  laughed,  walked  across  the  room,  back  again, 
and  ran  his  fingers  through  his  hair.  The  happiness 
began  to  intoxicate  him.  He  stopped  before  her  and 
took  both  her  hands. 

u  Do  you  know  what  a  man's  love  is  ?  "  he  cried. 

He  paced  his  room  that  night  in  a  hot  fever  of 
joy,  with  pulses  throbbing  and  nerves  vibrating. 
Irene's  love  was  his  at  last,  his  for  ever,  to  change 
life  from  an  ill-weeded  garden  to  glittering  fields  of  an 
unimagined  heaven  beyond  hyperbole  of  speech.  To 
preserve  the  ineffable  gift,  he  would  take  upon  himself 

271 


Idols 

the  burden  of  a  hundred  crimes.  In  this  hour  of  rap- 
ture the  burden  of  the  one  he  had  resolved  to  commit 
sat  lightly  on  his  shoulders.  She  ran  no  risk.  The 
secret  of  the  marriage  was  safe.  It  had  lain  buried 
in  the  Brighton  Registrar's  office  through  all  the  lurid 
publicity  of  the  trial.  Minna  would  keep  it  beyond 
the  shadow  of  a  doubt.  Anna  Cassaba  was  bound 
body  and  soul  to  Minna.  And  then  the  crime  was 
for  the  adored  one's  greater  happiness.  It  would  lift 
from  her  the  crushing  weight  of  social  loneliness.  It 
would  flood  her  life  with  the  passion  of  a  man's  wor- 
ship. The  vision  of  the  full  harmonious  days  to 
come  rose  up  before  him.  He  laughed  aloud.  There 
are  times  when  a  man  feels  strong  enough  to  defy 
Fate. 


272 


CHAPTER   XX 

MINNA  had  rushed  to  London,  which  she  loathed, 
from  Nice,  which  she  adored,  and  was  occupying  a 
suite  of  apartments  in  the  Hotel  M£tropole.  And  the 
cause  of  her  journey  was  Hugh;  wherefore  she  re- 
garded him  with  feelings  of  more  than  usual  vindict- 
iveness.  His  letter  announcing  his  marriage  with 
Irene  had  thrown  her  into  a  violent  rage.  She  had 
stormed  at  her  French  maid,  cast  herself  on  her  bed 
and  wept,  and  then  gone  off  to  Monte  Carlo,  where 
she  did  her  best  to  compromise  herself  with  an  Aus- 
trian banker  who  had  been,  for  the  past  fortnight, 
most  assiduous  in  his  attentions.  The  necessitous 
gentlewoman  whom,  for  shrewd  social  reasons,  Minna 
employed  as  her  chaperon  and  companion  had  chosen 
to  be  shocked.  There  had  been  a  scene. 

u  My  conscience  won't  allow  me  to  pass  such  things 
by  without  remonstrance,"  the  lady  had  said. 

"  I  don't  pay  you  to  have  a  conscience,"  Minna 
had  replied  rudely.  u  I  possess  one  too  many  of  my 
own." 

"It  is  an  outrage  on  common  decency, ' '  said  the 
lady,  who  had  a  spirit  as  yet  unbroken  by  servitude. 
18  273 


Idols 

Whereupon  Minna  had  dismissed  her  on  the  spot, 
and  that  evening  found  herself  unchaperoned.  Now, 
she  had  taken  a  little  villa  on  the  Cimiez  Road,  with 
a  cool  white  loggia  and  tesselated  floors.  To  live 
there  in  maiden  seclusion  was  out  of  the  question. 
To  provide  herself  with  the  excitement  that  she 
craved,  without  some  nominal  protectress  of  her  youth 
and  beauty,  would  be  to  rank  herself  as  unclassed. 
But  she  had  not  the  faintest  desire  to  set  society's 
skirts  tightly  drawn  when  she  passed  by,  as  did  many 
fair  and  solitary  owners  of  pretty  villas  between  Cannes 
and  St.  Remo.  Her  dearly  won  fortune  could  buy 
her  much  more  satisfactory  delights.  In  a  word,  a 
chaperon  was  essential.  For  a  whole  month  she 
sought  far  and  wide.  She  offered  lavish  terms.  Hun- 
dreds applied.  But  the  ladies  without  conscience  lacked 
influence.  The  influential  chaperons  seemed  to  be 
steeped  in  the  crassest  respectability.  At  last  a  para- 
gon came  within  her  horizon,  a  Mrs.  Delamcrc,  the 
widow  of  a  colonel  of  artillery,  a  woman  of  the  world. 

"In  the  course  of  an  incidented  life,"  she  wrote, 
1   have  found  that  discretion   is  the  better  part  of 
virtue." 

The  distorted  epigram  had  brought  Minna  post-haste 
to  London.  She  came,  saw,  conquered.  Mrs.  Dela- 
mcrc agreed  to  deposit  her  conscience  with  her  bank- 
ers, and  to  accompany  Minna  southward,  with  the 
briefest  possible  delay. 

274 


Idols 

It  was  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  Minna  threw 
herself  down  on  a  couch  and  turned  over  the  pages  of 
a  novel.  She  had  just  returned  from  a  solitary  drive 
in  the  Park,  where  she  had  not  seen  one  familiar  face. 
She  hated  London.  It  recalled  a  past  life  of  miseries. 
The  novel  fell  to  the  ground  as  she  went  over  the  tale 
of  them,  counted  for  the  fiftieth  time  since  her  arrival, 
two  days  before.  She  had  seen  no  one  but  Mrs. 
Delamere.  In  a  moment  of  utter  boredom,  a  vestige 
of  gratitude  had  suggested  a  visit  to  the  Bebros.  But 
she  could  not  face  the  ghosts  of  the>horrors  of  that 
house.  The  sight  of  the  dull,  coarse,  kindly  faces 
would  put  back  the  hand  of  time,  and  set  her  again 
among  the  devils.  A  faint  back-wash  of  the  old 
hysteria  met  her  at  the  thought.  So  she  remained 
in  solitary  state  in  the  gorgeous  hotel,  chafing  at  its 
dulness. 

Presently  she  rose  and  walked  with  aimless  unrest 
about  the  room.  She  rang  for  her  maid. 

u  Go  downstairs  and  get  me  a  couple  of  stalls  for 
the  Hay  market  this  evening." 

The  neat  French  girl  retired  with  the  order.  Minna 
went  to  the  window  and  drummed  against  the  pane, 
gazing  abstractedly  at  the  busy  embankment  crossing 
just  below,  the  train  creeping  over  Hungerford  Bridge, 
the  flaring  posters  against  the  Avenue  Theatre. 

"  How  hateful  everything  is,"  she  said  to  herself. 
,  But  she  remained  by  the  window  for  occupation's 

275 


Idols 

sake.  Then  Justine,  the  maid,  entered.  There  were 
no  stalls.  They  had  telephoned.  If  Mademoiselle 
would  like  a  box 

14  Oh,  yes,"  said   her  mistress,  irritably.      44  That 
will  do." 

She  had  invited  Mrs.  Delamcre  to  dinner  and  the- 
atre. An  irrational  impulse  of  politeness  had  caused 
her  to  leave  to  her  guest  the  choice  of  entertainment. 
Mrs.  Delamere  had  expressed  a  desire  to  see  a  much 
talked-of  piece  at  the  Hay  market  before  her  expatria- 
tion. Minna  had  a  foreboding  of  depression.  The 
Empire  or  the  Gaiety  would  have  better  suited  her 
mood;  also  a  bottle  of  champagne  afterwards  in  the 
company  of  some  amusing  men.  As  the  pros[ 
interested  her  but  slightly,  she  had  characteristically 
delayed  to  get  tickets  till  the  last  moment.  She  looked 
at  her  watch.  Half-past  five.  She  waited  by  the 
window  until  Justine  returned  with  the  box-tickets. 

"  I'll   come  and  dress,"   said  Minna;  "  it  will  be 
something  to  do." 

4  *  It  is  true  that  one  docs  not  amuse  oneself  in  Lon- 
don," said  Justine,  answering  the  implication. 

44  It  is  the  most  odious  place  on  the  earth;   I  sigh 
for  Nice 

44  I   also,    Mademoiselle.      But   Nice   will   be   dull 
when  we  return." 

44  We'll   shut  up  the  villa  and  go  to  Aix-les-Bains 
for  the  Russian  season." 

276 


Idols 

u  I  adore  the  Russians,"  cried  Justine  with  convic- 
tion. 

"  Have  you  known  many?"  asked  Minna  sar- 
castically. 

u  When  one  knows  one  thoroughly,  one  knows 
them  all,"  said  Justine. 

The  soothing  charm  of  a  long  and  protracted  toi- 
lette enlivened  by  Justine's  somewhat  intimate  account 
of  the  one  Russian  whom  she  knew  thoroughly,  be- 
guiled the  time  and  restored  Minna  to  good  humour. 
When  she  left  Justine's  hands,  adorned  in  the  most 
fascinating  of  Paris  dresses,  with  her  diamond  star  in 
her  dark  hair,  and  looked  at  herself  in  the  pier-glass, 
she  was  almost  happy.  She  was  young,  and  to  most 
eyes,  especially  her  own,  captivatingly  beautiful.  The 
ravages  that  the  past  ordeal  had  made  in  her  beauty 
had  been  repaired  by  time.  Her  lips  were  as  ripely 
pouting,  her  dark  eyes  as  slumberous,  her  lazy  lids  as 
sensuous,  as  when  she  had  first  deliberately  woven 
their  glamour  around  Hugh,  long,  long  ago.  Further- 
more, she  had  ripened  into  maturer  womanhood. 

"  Mademoiselle  is  ravishing,"  said  Justine. 

Minna  sighed.  "  And  to  think  that  it's  all  going 
to  be  wasted  to-night — positively  wasted."  » 

( (  Mademoiselle  will  command  the  admiration  of  the 
whole  house." 

Minna  laughed  contemptuously.  What  would  be 
the  gratification  of  that  ? 

277 


Idols 

44  It  would  please  me  enormously  if  I  were  in  the 
place  of  Mademoiselle,"  said  Justine. 

A  little  later  Minna  descended  with  her  guest  to 
the  great  dining-room.  Mrs.  Delamere  was  a  faded, 
tocratic  looking  woman,  with  an  aquiline  nose  and 
a  perfect  taste  in  dress.  She  looked  at  her  charge 
critically,  noticed  her  unabashed  and  somewhat  inviting 
acceptance  of  admiring  glances,  and  imperceptibly 
shrugged  her  shoulders.  Rather  than  linger  in  the 
Bloomsbury  boarding-house,  where  for  the  past  year 
she  had  been  hiding  her  fallen  fortunes,  she  would 
have  undertaken  to  chaperon  the  Unmentionable  Per- 
son of  Babylon  herself.  Meanwhile  she  intended  to 
enjoy  her  dinner. 

The  crowded  room,  the  buzz  of  conversation,  and  the 
expensive  wines  completed  Minna's  sense  of  content. 

11  I  am  glad  that  you  prefer  champagne  extra  m*," 
said  Mrs.  Delamere,  after  the  first  appreciative  sip. 
"  So  many  women  go  for  Veuve  Cliquot,  when  they 
can.' 

u  Yes,  and  make  men  afraid  to  dine  with  them," 
said  Minna.  "  I  felt  sure  that  your  taste  and  mine 
would  coincide.  Yet  I  had  to  educate  myself  up  to 
it." 

44  The  education  will  not  be  thrown  away,"  said 
Mrs.  Delamere. 

"Men  are  beasts,"  said  Minna.  4l  There  is 
scarcely  one  who  can  stand  against  an  appeal  to  his 

278 


Idols 

own  little  pet  sensuality.  But  there  is  no  amuse- 
ment or  excitement  in  life  without  men — and  so  it  is 
worth  while  studying  their  sensualities." 

Mrs.  Delamere  assented  with  a  polite  gesture. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  too  cynical  for  my  age  ?  " 
asked  Minna  in  her  languorous  voice. 

1  *  Age  is  a  matter  of  experience  rather  than  of 
years." 

u  Well — too  cynical  for  my  experience  ?  " 

Mrs.  Delamere  pursed  her  thin  lips  in  a  smile. 

*  *  Some  experience  brings  cynicism ;  some  again 
brings  truth.  It  all  depends  how  you  are  affected." 

"  But  what  is  truth — to  quote  Pilate?"  asked 
Minna.  "  I  haven't  found  it,  either  in  myself  or  in 
any  one  else.  To  weave  the  most  gratifying  tissue 
out  of  lies — that's  the  end  of  life.  If  I  shock  you, 
you  had  better  tell  me  at  once,  Mrs.  Delamere." 

u  You  look  far  too  charming  for  any  one  to  be 
shocked  at  you,"  replied  the  chaperon  indulgently. 

u  Thank  you,"  said  Minna  in  high  good  humour. 

Mrs.  Delamere  turned  the  conversation  to  the  cos- 
mopolitan society  of  foreign  watering-places.  She 
had  a  wide  experience  of  men  and  things,  and  talked 
amusingly.  Minna  compared  her  approvingly  with 
her  prudish  predecessor,  and  congratulated  herself  on 
her  choice.  The  talk  was  so  edifying  that  they  lin- 
gered over  their  coffee,  and  when  they  reached  their 
box  at  the  theatre  the  first  act  had  begun. 

279 


Idols 

Except  on  the  stage,  all  was  dimness.  The  stalls, 
the  dress-circle  glimmered  vaguely  with  the  pale  spots 
of  faces  and  the  broader  splashes  of  light  dresses. 
Minna  sat  on  the  stage  side  of  the  box  and  Mrs. 
Delamere  opposite.  The  act  failed  to  interest  the 
girl,  whose  champagne-filled  head  craved  amusement. 
Her  nature,  too,  instinctively  rebelled  at  earnest  i 
of  purpose  and  the  suggestion  of  ideals.  The  fore- 
shadowing of  tragedy  in  the  play  depressed  her.  Her 
own  soul  was  too  dark  to  bear  additional  gloom  with 
ease.  She  yawned,  rested  her  elbow  on  the  edge  of 
the  box,  and  looked  fixedly  at  the  stage,  while  she  saw 
her  own  life,  and  pitied  herself  greatly.  She  was 
alone.  Anna  Cassaba  had  died  suddenly  three  months 
ago.  Now  she  was  friendless,  save  for  this  paid 
woman  next  her,  whom  in  her  heart  she  despised. 
She  brooded  over  her  wrongs— over  the  last  great  in- 
sult her  husband  had  heaped  upon  her.  How  she 
hated  him !  How  dared  he  many  ?  Considering  her 
passionate  repudiation  of  all  claims  upon  him,  this 
was  unreasonable.  But  if  men  and  women  were 
always  guided  by  reason,  life  would  be  as  emotional 
as  the  Binomial  Theorem. 

At  last  the  curtain  descended.  The  theatre  sprang 
into  light.  Mrs.  Delamere  broke  into  well-modulated 
enthusiasm.  She  praised  the  acting. 

44  It  all  seems  wooden  compared  with  the  French 
stage,"  replied  Minna,  pausing  in  the  act  of  raising 

280 


Idols 

an  opera-glass.  She  turned,  scanned  the  movements 
in  the  stalls.  Suddenly  she  dropped  the  glass  on  her 
lap  and  remained  staring,  and  grew  very  white. 

"  Take  my  salts,"  said  Mrs.  Delamere,  quickly 
rising. 

u  Look  there,"  cried  Minna,  unheeding.  u  There 
he  is,  standing  up." 

"Who?" 

"  Hugh  Colman." 

u  The  man  who ?  "  said  Mrs.  Delamere  with 

tactful  aposiopesis. 

Minna  recovered,  flushed,  bit  her  lip  angrily.  She 
had  almost  betrayed  herself. 

u  It  gave  a  shock  to  see  him,"  she  explained,  for- 
cing a  smile.  "  The  last  time  was  in  such  painful 
circumstances — the  trial — my  poor  father." 

Mrs.  Delamere  nodded  sympathy,  and  looked  with 
curious  interest  at  Hugh's  handsome  face  and  haughty 
bearing. 

"  And  there  is  the  heroine  of  his  romance  with 
him,  Mrs.  Merriam.  I  know  her  by  sight." 

u  They  were  married  a  month  ago,"  said  Minna, 
steadying  her  voice. 

u  They  were  both  friends  of  yours,  I  believe." 

u  He  was,"  said  Minna. 

At  that  moment,  she  saw  his  eyes,  which  had  been 
idly  wandering  round  the  house,  fix  themselves  with 
awful  suddenness  upon  hers.  Instinct  warned  her 

281 


Idols 

of  the  danger  of  putting  Mrs.  Dclamcrc  on  the  scent 
of  a  mystery.  She  made  Hugh  an  unmistakably  cor- 
dial bow,  to  which  he  responded  with  grave  count 
Then  he  sat  down  beside  Irene.  The  conjuncture  of 
the  parties  in  so  celebrated  a  trial  did  not  pass  un- 
noticed. A  whispering  here,  followed  by  a  glance,  an 
opera-glass  levelled  there,  indicated  to  Minna  the  fact 
of  their  recognition.  Exaggerating  the  danger,  she 
summoned  the  box-attendant  and,  borrowing  a  pencil, 
hbled  in  German  upon  a  bit  of  her  programme: 
"  Come  and  speak  to  me,  to  save  appearance 
The  note  despatched,  she  awaited  eve; 

Hugh  sat  down  by  Irene,  and  hated  to  meet  the 
love  and  trust  in  her  clear  eyes.  It  was  the  first  time 
they  had  appeared  together  in  public  since  their  mar- 
riage, the  first  time  either  had  been  to  a  theatre  since 
his  arrest  for  Israel  Hart's  murder.  It  had  been  a 
small  event  in  their  lives,  enjoyed  in  anticipation,  and 
up  to  now  enjoyed  in  realisation.  I  tux  had  held 
hands  lover-wise  during  the  act,  under  cover  of  the 
darkness,  signalling  emotions  by  little  finger-pressures. 
He  rode  on  the  full  tide  of  the  past  month's  wondrous 
happiness.  Now  and  then  his  mind  wandered  to  the 
sheltered  haven  on  the  sweet  Cornish  coast  where  the 
all-fulfilling  days  of  their  honeymoon  had  been  passed; 
where  the  woman,  shyly  revealing  her  inner  tender- 
nesses, setmed  thereby  to  regain  day  by  day  the  colour 
of  her  cheeks  and  the  serenity  of  her  brow.  And  his 

282 


Idols 

thoughts  flew  forward  to  the  journey  home,  to  the 
strange  new  fact  of  not  parting  at  the  door,  and  walk- 
ing back  to  his  lonely  rooms  with  his  heart  aching  for 
wild  impossibilities.  He  had  risen  with  a  laughing 
speech : 

( *  I  am  going  to  delight  myself  by  seeing  how  in- 
ferior all  other  women  are  to  you." 

And  then  his  eyes  had  met  those  of  Minna  fixed 
-upon  him  like  a  fate. 

u  Strange  we  should  see  her  on  our  first  appear- 
ance," said  Irene. 

"  She  is  looking  remarkably  well,"  he  returned, 
realising  and  hating  the  banality  of  the  remark.  Then 
he  was  silent.  Irene  noticed  a  constraint. 

' '  Never  mind  if  it  calls  up  cruel  associations,  dear. 
The  past  troubles  have  brought  the  present  happiness. 
You  must  always  remember  that." 

"  Could  I  ever  forget  ?  "   he  said. 

u  She  has  improved  in  looks,"  said  Irene,  with  a 
glance  at  the  box.  ' i  The  last  time  I  saw  her,  poor 
thing,  she  was  terribly  pulled  down.  I  don't  think  I 
ever  told  you.  It  was  on  the  awful  evening  of  the 
first  day  of  the  trial.  She  suddenly  appeared  at  our 
house,  and,  before  she  could  speak,  was  stricken  dumb 
with  hysteria.  We  had  to  send  her  back  to  her 
friends.  Strange,  wasn't  it  ?  " 

"  Very  strange,"  said  Hugh,  in  a  low  voice. 

What  could  have  been  the  intention  of  her  visit  ? 
283 


Idols 

To  confess  ?  He  dared  not  show  the  agitation  that 
the  story  caused  him.  He  rose  brusquely,  with  a 
desire  to  escape  for  a  moment  from  the  torture  of  his 
present  position.  Its  falseness  stung  his  impatience. 
A  Kttlc  bald-headed  man  two  rows  of  stalls  off,  who 
was  looking  with  curiosity  at  the  hero  of  the  caust 
ctbbre^  suddenly  met  Hugh's  glance  and  curled  up 
like  a  shrivelled  leaf  into  his  stall.  But  Hugh  had  been 
quite  unconscious  of  the  bald-headed  man's  intc 

44  Why  don't  you  go  and  smoke  a  cigarette  ?  "  safl 
Irene. 

As  he  turned  towards  her,  he  saw  the  tender  truth- 
ful love  in  her  face,  and  he  called  himself  a  villain  folf 
deceiving  her.  But  it  was  for  her  happiness.  InJ 
dubitatively.  Still  the  presence  there  of  the  other 
woman  shed  a  ghastly  light  upon  his  honour  rooted 
in  dishonour.  And  Irene's  simple  statement  ofl 
Minna's  mysterious  visit,  whose  baffled  intention  he 
could  not  but  surmise,  added  a  grimmer  irony  to  the 
situation.  Before  he  could  reply  to  Irene,  however, 
the  attendant  had  edged  her  way  to  him  with  Minna'* 
note.  His  brow  darkened  as  he  read  the  words.  He 
could  not  refuse.  Besides,  Irene  had  heard  the  at- 
tendant's enquiry  and  explanation. 

4k  I  will  go  and  speak  to  her  if  you  don't  mind,1' 
he  said. 

4<  Of  course  you  must,"said  Irene.      (4  She  will  be 
glad  to  see  you/* 

284 


Idols 

Hugh  looked  at  his  watch.  There  were  still  ten 
minutes  before  the  curtain  rose.  There  would  be 
time  for  a  brief  interview.  The  briefer  the  better. 

He  made  his  way  along  the  line  of  stalls  and  ran  up 
the  stairs  to  Minna's  box.  She  met  him  outside,  in 
the  carpeted  and  quiet  passage,  and  walked  a  step  or 
two  past  the  door  of  her  box,  so  as  to  be  beyond  the 
earshot  of  Mrs.  Delamere.  She  held  out  her  ha-d  to 
him  with  an  air  of  contemptuous  defiance. 

u  So  you  have  committed  bigamy  ?  "  she  remarked. 

"  To  put  it  bluntly,  I  have,"  replied  Hugh.  "  You 
scarcely  summoned  me  to  give  yourself  the  pleasure  of 
telling  me  that." 

( *  Who  knows  ? ' '  said  Minna,  with  an  insolent  up- 
sweep of  her  lazy  lashes. 

u  Have  you  anything  to  say  against  it  ?  " 

u  Oh,  dear,  no.  You  got  my  letter,  didn't  you  ? 
You  can  have  as  many  wives  as  the  late  Brigham 
Young,  if  you  like." 

Hugh  bowed  ironically.  It  was  like  her  to  meet 
tragic  issues  with  vulgarity. 

u  Tell  me,"  he  said,  with  a  quick  change  of  man- 
ner, u  why  did  you  go  to  Mrs.  Merriam's  on  that 
evening  during  the  trial  ?  " 

The  question  was  so  abrupt  and  the  incident  for  the 
moment  so  far  from  her  thoughts  that  she  gave  a  little 
gasp  of  surprise  and  the  blood  came  into  her  cheeks. 
She  drooped  her  eyes,  stole  a  surreptitious  glance  at 

285 


Idols 

him,  and  seeing  his  face  very  stern,  hardened  her  heart 
and  laughed  contemptuously. 

41  The  thing  got  on  my  nerves,  I  suppose — you 
don't  fancy  I  contemplated  murdering  you  in  cold 
blood  ?  I  thought  your  dear,  true  friend  Mr.  Mer- 
riam  might  help  me.  Wasn't  I  a  silly  little  fool  ?  " 

u  I  am  glad  you  had  one  moment  of  compunction," 
said  Hugh. 

44  I  have  sincerely  repented  of  it  since,  I  assure 
you.  But  we  need  not  talk  of  unpleasant  things. 
All  is  for  the  best  in  this  best  of  all  possible  worlds. 
I  see  you  are  amply  consoled,  while  I " 

44  And  you 

"  I  console  myself,  too,"  she  answered  insolent Iv. 

He  regarded  her  pityingly ;  was  silent  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  he  said  in  a  kinder  tone : 

Why  speak  like  this  ?  I  should  be  happy  to 
feel  that  you  had  made  an  effort  to  save  me.  For  I 
have  judged  you  harshly.  If  you  tried  to  act  loyally 
towards  me,  as  I  tried  to  act  towards  you,  the  fact 
will  save  us  from  hating  one  another." 

"  Will  it  ?  "  she  echoed.  "  My  dear  man,  you 
can't  possibly  conceive  how  I  hate  you." 

44  Very  well,  then.  We'll  remain  the  best  of  ene- 
mies. Arc  you  staying  long  in  London  ?  " 

44  Till  the  day  after  to-morrow.  I  am  afraid  I 
shall  not  have  the  pleasure  of  asking  you  to  call  on 

250 


Idols 

"  I  regret  it  extremely,"  replied  Hugh.  a  And  now 
that  I  believe  the  curtain  is  up,  I  will  say  good-bye. " 

"  Won't  you  sit  through  the  act  in  our  box  ?  " 
asked  Minna.  "  It  will  be  difficult  to  get  back  to 
your — other  wife." 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  walked  away.  She 
looked  back  at  him  until  the  curve  of  the  passage  hiil 
him  from  her  view,  and  then  entered  her  box. 

With  muttered  apologies  to  disturbed  stall  occu- 
pants Hugh  regained  his  place  by  Irene.  She  slipped 
her  hand,  as  before,  into  his,  and  whispered  a  wel- 
come. His  grasp  grew  tight  as  his  heart  swelled 
within  him.  Oh,  God,  it  was  good  to  have  her  safe 
and  secure !  But  the  spell  of  the  play  had  lost  its 
power.  When  the  curtain  fell  again,  he  was  scarcely 
conscious  of  what  had  passed.  It  had  fallen  on  a 
highly  dramatic  situation.  Irene  gave  the  little  sigh 
of  relieved  tension,  and  turned  to  him,  her  face  lit 
with  the  afterglow  of  kindled  emotion. 

u  You  are  enjoying  it,  dearest  ?  "   he  said. 

"Oh,  yes.      And  you?" 

"  I  am  beside  you,  Renie.  That  is  all  I  want  in 
this  world." 

The  answer  contented  her.  She  whispered  a  fool- 
ish word,  her  head  near  his.  Instinctively  he  raised 
his  eyes  to  Minna's  box,  and  saw  her  staring  down  at 
him  with  the  hard,  ugly  look  upon  her  face  that  he 
had  known  so  well  in  days  past. 

287 


Idols 

11  I  am  afraid  that  poor  girl  is  not  happy/'  said 
Irene,  following  his  glance.  t(  Isn't  it  strange,  Hugh 
dear,  that  from  the  very  first,  I  always  wanted  to 
lighten  her  lot  ?  What  a  meddlesome  creature  she 
would  think  me  if  she  knew!  " 

She  drove  knives  into  the  man.  In  what  esti- 
mation would  she  hold  him,  if  he  told  her  his  and 
that  girl's  s*  He  was  no  hero  in  his  own  eyes; 

in  hers  he  day  by  day  perceived,  with  an  indescribable 
mingling  of  pain  and  pride,  that  he  was.  It  was  her 
nature  to  exalt  any  one  she  loved  on  a  pinnacle  of 
greatness.  He  had  married  her,  allowing  her  to  re- 
main in  ignorance,  honestly,  according  to  his  lights; 
for  the  sake  of  her  welfare  alone.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  he  trembled  for  himself. 

4<  Don't  be  sad,  dear,"  she  said  after  a  while.  "  I 
can  look  back  on  it  all  so  calmly — as  if  it  had  happened 
in  a  prior  state  of  existence.  And  so  must  you." 

"  Love  is  the  god  that  works  all  healing,"  he  re- 
plied. And  the  sincerity  of  his  faith  comforted  him. 

The  object  of  Irene's  pity  soon  withdrew  into  the 
shadow  of  the  box,  and  plunged  into  flippant  and 
bitter  dialogue  with  Mrs.  Dclamerc.  The  newspaper 
account  of  the  scandal  gave  her  scope  for  much  mor- 
dant criticism  of  Hugh  and  Irene.  It  was  a  savage 
pleasure  to  tear  their  reputation  to  shreds,  heap  on 
invective  and  opprobrium,  invent  past  meannesses  and 
dishonours  and  treacheries. 

288 


Idols 

You  seem  to  dislike  him  very  much,"   remarked 
Irs.  Delamere,  smiling. 

'Who  wouldn't,  considering  his  record  of  infamy?  " 
eplied  Minna,  her  rich,  deep  voice  turning,  as  it 
Iways  did  when  she  was  angered,  to  harshness. 

The  smile  flickered  inscrutably  around  Mrs.  Dela- 
mere's  thin  lips. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said.  u  I  can  forgive  the 
woman.  I  should  think  most  women  with  whom  he 
has  come  in  contact  have  been  ready  to  throw  them- 
selves away  upon  him.  He  is  a  splendid  looking 
animal." 

4  c  Do  you  think  women  are  beasts  like  men  ? ' ' 
l<  There's   not   much   to   choose   between  them," 
replied  Mrs.  Delamere. 

The  last  act  began;  Mrs.  Delamere  gave  herself  up 
to  the  stage.  Minna  leant  on  the  edge  of  the  box 
and  brooded  over  the  two  figures  side  by  side,  just 
distinguishable  in  the  chequered  dimness  of  the  stalls. 
When  the  piece  was  over,  she  hurried  her  companion 
out  of  the  theatre,  and  parted  from  her  at  the  door. 
A  cab  quickly  took  her  to  the  M£tropole.  She  went 
straight  into  her  bedroom  and  ordered  a  small  bottle 
of  champagne  and  some  biscuits,  which  she  consumed 
while  Justine  aided  her  to  undress. 

"  Has  Mademoiselle  well  amused  herself?  "  asked 
Justine. 

"  Don't  chatter  in  that  irritating  way,"  said  Minna 
19  289 


Idols 

snappishly.      So  Justine  concluded  her  operations  inl 
silence,  and  retired  at  the  earliest  opportunity. 

Minna  wrapped  her  dressing-gown  around  her  and 
lay  back  in  a  chair,  with  the  last  half  glass  of  ch 
pagne  beside  her.      And  gradually    the    sensuousr 
faded   from   her  face,  and   her  eyes  grew  haunted 
trouble  and  her   lips  worked   nervously.      Thus    sh 
remained  rigid,  save  for  her  lips  and  swelling  boson 
for  a  long  time.      At  last,  in  a  vehement  whisper: 

44  Yes,  I  hate  him,"  she  said. 


**> 


CHAPTER   XXI 

FOR  a  while  the  sun  of  his  happiness  declined  and 
the  shadow  of  his  danger  rested  upon  Hugh.  But 
presently  it  was  noontide  again,  and,  after  the  manner 
of  men,  he  forgot  the  danger.  The  months  passed 
and  grew  into  years,  and  a  wonderful  joy  came  into 
Irene's  sky  and  lit,  with  a  new  worship,  her  love  for 
Hugh.  But  Minna  lived  in  the  gloom  of  a  disastrous 
life. 

Three  years  had  passed. 

Her  high-heeled  shoes  came  down  with  a  click 
upon  the  tiled  floor  of  the  loggia  at  every  swing  for- 
ward of  her  American  rocking-chair.  As  Mrs.  Dela- 
mere's  nerves  had  been  tried  of  late,  she  rose,  after 
some  wincing,  and  prepared  to  enter  the  drawing- 
room.  Three  years'  chaperonage  of  Minna  had 
brought  their  wear  and  tear  upon  the  system;  and 
Minna's  character  had  decidedly  not  softened.  They 
had,  however,  remained  excellent  friends,  and  had 
formed  a  cold,  cynical  attachment  to  each  other. 
The  pulling  up  of  a  carriage  in  the  court-yard  below 
drew  Mrs.  Delamere  to  the  balustrade. 

291 


Idols 

44  If  you  arc  really  going  to  Monte  Carlo,  you  had 
better  make  haste,  or  you  will  miss  the  10.  55.  There 
u  the  carriage." 

Minna  stopped  her  rocking,  and  lay  back  in  the 
chair  in  a  lazy  attitude. 

>v  I  wish  I  hadn't  told  Boissy  I  would  come." 

44  So  do  I.  He's  a  bit  of  a  cad.  It  won't  do  you 
any  good  to  placard  yourself  about  with  him." 

"  Because  he  tells  improper  stones  ?  " 

44  On  a  fortnight's  acquaintance,"  said  Mrs.  Dcla- 
mcrc. 

44  Well,  he's  the  only  man  I  have  met  who  can  tell 
you  them  without  making  you  feel  bound  to  blush. 
Blushing  is  a  nuisance.  In  fact  everything  in  the 
world  is  a  nuisance.  I  wish  I  were  out  of  it." 

44  You  would  scarcely  find  your  way  to  a  better 
one,"  remarked  the  elder  lady  suavely. 

44  Who  knows?"   said   Minna.      44  This  is  pretty 
bad.      Here  all  the  virtuous  are  deadly  dull  and  despise 
me.      All   those  who  seek   me  out  and  amuse  me  are 
•us  and  vulgar.      I  hate  the  sight  of  Boissy." 

11  Don't  you  think  you  had  better  spend  a  quiet  day 
here,  for  a  change — send  a  telegram  to  Boissy  ?  " 

4 'Oh,  lord!  I  should  go  crazy  if  I  sat  here  doing 
nothing  all  day.  It  is  punishment  for  my  sins,  I  sup- 
pose." 

44  Do  as  you  like,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Delamere. 
44  Only,  if  you  go,  keep  your  wits  about  you." 

292 


Idols 

"  I  can  command  the  services  of  better  looking 
animals  than  Boissy,  if  I  want  to  compromise  myself," 
retorted  Minna.  ' (  He  looks  as  if  he  came  out  of  the 
Bon  Marche.  But  he'll  give  me  the  best  d/jeuner  in 
Monte  Carlo." 

"It  is  getting  late,  Mademoiselle,"  said  Justine, 
appearing  on  the  loggia  with  an  anxious  face.  Minna 
rose  sighing,  and  followed  the  maid  indoors.  A  short 
while  afterwards,  Mrs.  Delamere  saw  her  charge, 
attired  in  a  daffodil-yellow  dress  and  a  showy  straw 
hat,  a  wilderness  of  bows  and  flowers,  drive  off"  but- 
toning her  long  gloves. 

"  She  is  overdoing  it,"  she  murmured  to  hersef,  as 
she  kissed  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  Minna.  "  She 
will  be  wearing  her  diamonds  in  the  daytime  next. 
I'm  glad  I'm  not  a  disappointed  Jewess." 

The  Vicomte  de  Boissy,  a  short  young  man,  with  a 
small  curled  black  moustache,  a  bad  mouth,  and  some- 
what dissipated  eyes,  dressed  in  a  striped  flannel  suit 
and  carrying  a  gold-knobbed  malacca,  met  Minna  as 
she  alighted  on  the  platform  of  the  pretty  little  Monte 
Carlo  station.  He  welcomed  her  with  many  compli- 
ments. She  was  ravishing.  He  scarcely  dared  hope 
she  would  do  him  the  honour — even  after  her  note 
had  arrived.  When  he  saw  her  descend  from  the 
railway  carriage,  he  was  dazzled.  Minna  looked  at 
him  with  a  little  curl  of  disdain.  Mrs.  Delamere 
was  right.  He  was  a  bit  of  a  cad.  And  among 

293 


Idols 

h  had  her  lot  fallen.  A  tall,  clean,  high-bred 
Knglishman  passed  her  by.  He  reminded  her  of 
Hugh. 

(<  Women  are  fools,  aren't  they,  M.  de  Bois^ 
she  said,  as  they  emerged  from  the  lift,  and  were  walk- 
ing  across   the   square,  bright  with  shops  and  cafe, 
towards  the  great  white  casino.      "  But  I  suppose  you! 
settled  that  for  yourself  at  the  age  of  ten." 

"  Ma  /*/',    Mademoiselle,"   he  replied,    %4  there   is 
no  folly  in  being  gracious  to  the  most  humble  of  youci 
admirerv 

44  Oh!    I  wasn't   at  all  thinking  of  my  coming  to 
lunch  with  you  to-day.      You   need   not  flatter  your-j 
self 

He  pleaded  for  mercy,  adroitly  turned  the  convcrsa-j 
tion,  touched  upon  the  scandalous  chronicle  of  the 
place  and  made  her  laugh.  They  strolled  through 
the  building  to  the  gardens.  The  weather  was  a  per-J 
feet  Riviera  March,  the  grounds  gay  with  bright 
dresses.  Now  and  then  an  acquaintance  passed, 
generally  masculine  and  foreign,  and  bowed  low  to 
her.  At  which  times  her  companion  drew  himself 
up  and  put  on  airs  of  importance,  which  Minna's 
half-closed  eyes  were  shrewd  to  notice.  At  last  she 
grew  weary  of  walking.  She  asked  him  sharply 
whether  they  were  ever  going  to  lunch.  He  over- 
whelmed her  with  apologies,  conducted  her  back 
through  the  casino  and  across  the  square  to  the  Hotel 

294 


Idols 

de  Paris,  where  he  had  reserved  a  table.  There,  amid 
the  popping  of  champagne  corks,  the  cosmopolitan 
chatter,  the  sparkle  of  the  scene,  and  the  grivois  wit 
of  her  host,  Minna  threw  off  her  sarcastic  mood  and 
jested  recklessly.  She  was  only  capable  of  enjoy- 
ment now,  when  she  had  a  little  champagne  in  her 
head.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  make  love  to 
her,  with  all  the  vulgarity  of  a  cheap  conqueror. 
Minna  was  used  to  the  game.  It  pleased  her  to  prac- 
tise her  arts  of  seduction.  She  knew  that  the  caress- 
ing languor  of  her  voice  intoxicated  the  listener.  He 
was  the  latest  of  innumerable  wayfarers  to  whom  she 
had  held  out  the  charmed  cup.  That  she  despised 
him  added  cynical  zest.  Besides,  her  own  blood  was 
stirred.  A  wanton  woman  does  not  turn  men  to  swine 
for  the  mere  fun  of  seeing  them  pigs.  Boissy  was  in 
the  slough  of  delight.  His  bad  little  face  coarsened, 
his  lips  grew  thick,  his  cheeks  puffed  up  towards  his 
eyes;  he  suggested  a  satyr  debased  by  a  civilised 
ancestry.  In  his  mind,  he  was  already  bragging  about 
his  conquest  to  his  friends. 

"  I  wish    I   had  dared  entertain  you  in  a  private 
room,"  he  said,  leaning  over  the  table. 

( c  You  would  have  sacrificed  a  great  deal  of  gratifi- 
cation," replied  Minna. 

"  How  ?     We  should  have  been  alone." 

"  You  would  not  have  satisfied  your  vanity,"  said 
Minna.      u  You  know  that  very  well." 

295 


:. 

hrr 


Idols 

He  protested.      He  was    burning    with    adoration. 
She  was  cruel,  like  all  her  countrywomen. 

t(  You   have  had  enough  good  fortune  for  one  day, 
I  consider,"  she  said. 

11  Ah,  then,  can  I  hope?" 

<c  That's  a  thing  forbidden  to  no  one/'  she  repli 
looking  at  him  through  her  eyelashes. 

They  had  sat  long  over  the  meal.  She  expressed 
desire  for  the  outer  air,  and  they  strolled  again  t« 
through  the  wonderful  gardens.  Behind  then 
the  great  white  palace  of  the  casino,  its  marble  balus- 
trades and  stairs  and  cupolas  gleaming  amidst  the 
gorgeous  vegetation.  In  front,  the  cobalt-blue  Medi- 
terranean meeting  afar  off  the  violet  sky.  On  the  left 
swept  the  fair  Italian  coast.  On  the  right  ro>c  the 
black  crag  of  Monaco,  with  its  palace  guarding  the 
russet  roofs  of  the  little  old  town.  Beneath  them, 
terrace  after  terrace  of  greensward  bedded  with  riot- 
ous profusion  of  flowers,  broken  by  white  parapets 
and  flights  of  stairs.  The  scent  of  exotic  flowers 
hung  sensuously  on  the  warm  air. 

"It   is   intoxicating   like  wine,   or  your    beat 
said  Boissy. 

Minna   shrugged   her   shoulders   and    glanced    idly 
round. 

"It's  a   pretty  place.      But  one  gets  tired  of  it,  a* 
of  most  things.      What's  the  time?  " 

vt  Half-past  two/'  he  replied,  consulting  his  watch. 


Idols 

Mrs.  Delamere  would  be  there  by  half-past  four. 
Then  she  could  dismiss  Boissy,  of  whom  she  was 
•growing  weary. 

"  Shall  we  sit  down  ?     One  talks  better." 

He  indicated  a  sheltered  seat  behind  some  great 
aloes,  and  led  her  thither.  Minna  commanded  him  to 
amuse  her. 

"  I  am  too  much  in  love." 

<(  Then  tell  me  the  history  of  your  last  grand  pas- 
sion." 

u  I  have  only  had  one  in  my  life." 

He  began  to  plead.  Somehow  the  charm  of  entic- 
ing him  had  palled.  He  was  such  a  vulgar  little 
creature.  She  had  heard  all  he  had  to  say  scores  of 
times.  She  craved  originality.  The  sublime  conceit 
of  the  man,  who  was  growing  earnestly  amorous, 
moved  her  disdain.  Unscrupulous  and  conscious  of 
degradation  as  she  was,  she  nevertheless  set  a  great 
value  on  herself.  So  she  found  entertainment  in 
scathing  ridicule.  At  last  he  lost  his  temper,  threw 
his  arms  roughly  round  her  and  kissed  her.  Shef 
struggled  from  him,  revolted,  and  struck  him  with 
all  her  might  in  the  face.  The  brutality  of  the  de- 
based Gaul  was  aroused.  The  crimson  mark  flared 
across  a  livid  cheek.  Mad  with  rage  he  seized  her 
wrists. 

"  Hallo !  "  said  a  sudden  voice.      "  Drop  that !  " 

A  great,  huge-limbed  Englishman,  dressed  in  loose 
297 


Idols 

tweeds  and  a  discoloured  straw  hat,  stood  before  them. 
Boissy  rose  to  his  feet  and  struck  an  attitude. 

44  Monsieur — "  he  began. 

But  the  new-comer  took  no  notice  of  him.  In- 
stead, he  looked  with  an  air  of  startled  recognition  at 
Minna,  and  then  lifted  his  hat. 

44  Miss  Hart,  I  believe." 

The  surprise  was  great.  She  regarded  him  for  some 
moments  rather  bewildered.  He  seemed  to  have 
dropped  from  the  sky. 

44  Mr.  Merriam!" 

She  collected  herself  quickly,  rose,  extended  her 
hand.  4(  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  again,"  she  said, 
with  an  air  of  sincerity  warranted  by  the  occasion. 

44  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to  you  ?  " 

44  Oh,  no,  thanks,"  she  replied  lightly.  And  turn- 
ing to  Boissy,  who  stood  by  fuming,  44  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  thanking  you  for  a  most  agreeable  after- 
noon. " 

With  a  bow  she  dismissed  him.  He  saluted  with 
as  good  a  grace  as  he  could,  including  Gerard  in  his 
salute.  But  Gerard  kept  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and 
watched  him  move  away. 

44  What  the  deuce  was  he  trying  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

44  Make  love  to  me,  I  suppose." 

44  Somewhat  fiercely 

I  had  just  struck  him  across  the  face." 

44  Are  those  the  habits  of  these  parts  ;  " 
298 


Idols 

"  Oh,  no.  We  are  tame  as  a  rule.  I  had  just 
been  lunching  with  him  in  the  most  civilised  way." 

"  Perhaps  I  intruded,"  said  Gerard. 

u  By  no  means.  You  came  just  in  time,  like  the 
hero  in  a  melodrama,  to  save  maiden  innocence  from 
the  clutches  of  the  villain." 

"  May  I  enjoy  the  hero's  privilege  of  consolation  ?  " 

u  Within  moderate  limits,"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  not  be  taking  you  from  your  friends  ?  " 

u  Oh,  no.  I  don't  expect  my  friend,  Mrs.  Dela- 
mere,  who  lives  with  me,  till  half^past  four.  Till 
then  I  am  a  waif.  Shall  we  sit  ?  Or,  no.  Let  us 
find  a  place  somewhere  else." 

They  walked  together  to  the  terrace  below,  and  sat 
down  facing  the  blue  glory  of  the  sea.  On  their  way 
thither,  she  began  to  explain  her  presence  in  Monte 
Carlo.  Nice  had  been  her  winter  quarters  for  over 
three  years.  Her  little  villa  was  charming.  If  Mr. 
Merriam  happened  to  be  in  Nice  and  would  call  at 
the  Casa  Benedetta,  Mrs.  Delamere  and  herself  would 
be  delighted  to  see  him.  Minna  used  her  chaperon 
freely  as  a  stalking  horse  of  respectability. 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  come,"  said  Gerard,  with  an 
appreciative  glance  at  his  companion.  <(  I  only  landed 
in  Europe  yesterday,  after  a  long  absence,  so  I  haven't 
found  my  bearings  yet." 

c '  Where  have  you  been  ? ' ' 

"  Until  lately  in  South  Africa.      Hunting  and  gold 

2QQ 


Idols 

mining.  Then  I  satisfied  a  schoolboy  craze  to  see 
Madagascar.  I  don't  want  to  see  it  again.  Was 
down  with  fever  most  of  the  time,  and  took  the  first 
Messagerics  steamer  to  Marseilles.  Then  I  thought 
I  would  put  in  a  week  or  two  here,  before  facing  the 
wretched  English  spring." 

44  So  you've  been  gold-mining/'  said  Minna. 

44  Yes.  Pretty  successfully.  Came  in  just  before 
the  boom.  " 

44  Made  a  fortune?" 
I've  cleared  a  tidy  bit 

**  And  you've  come  here  to  dispose  of  some  of  it  ?  " 

44  At  the  tables?  Not  much.  I  am  not  that 
sort 

I  am  afraid  I  am/'  said  Minna,  with  a  little  sigh. 

44  Do  you  win  or  lose  ?  "   he  asked. 

44  Last  year  I  lost  ;£6,ooo.      This  year  I  am  win- 
ning.     That's  one  reason  why  I   live  in  these  parts.* 
The  tables  are  a   necessity   to  me.      Monte   Carlo, 
Aix-lcs-Bains,  Ostend.      That's  my  usual  round." 

44  Don't  you  get  rather  sick  of  it 

Minna  looked  mournfully  out  to  sea,  and  clasped 
her  hands  in  her  lap.  A  pathetic  attitude,  somewhat 
out  of  harmony  with  the  daffodil  toilette  and  the  un- 
blushing hat. 

44  Pleasures  would  be  tolerable  were  it  not  that  one 
has  to  live  so  as  to  enjoy  them,"  she  said,  after  a 
pause. 

300 


Idols 

"  You  have  come  by  your  pessimism  early  in  life," 
he  observed. 

"  I've  not  had  much  to  encourage  optimism,  as 
you  may  be  aware,  Mr.  Merriam." 

"  You  had  a  bad  bout,  of  course.  So  did  we  all," 
said  Gerard.  "  But  you  have  had  time  to  recover." 

4 '  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  your  money  ?  ' ' 
she  asked. 

"  Oh — I  don't  know.  Buy  an  estate  in  my  own 
county — -Norfolk — and  settle  down  to  squiredom. 
Breed  stock  and  preserve  pheasants  and  that  sort  of 
thing." 

"  Will  you  be  glad  to  get  back  ?  " 
I     "I  suppose  so.     Ever)7  one  is,  in  a  way.     Wouldn't 
you  ?" 

"  I  loathe  England  and  all  that  it  contains  too 
much,"  she  said  with  bitterness.  "And  I  can't 
understand  your  wanting  to  return,  either." 

The  first  allusion  to  past  events  was  followed  by  a 
short  silence,  during  which  each  took  mental  stock  of 
the  other.  The  circumstances  in  which  they  had 
met  had  led  naturally  to  a  false  assumption  of  friend- 
liness. Now  each  was  abruptly  reminded  of  the  very 
distant  acquaintance  that  had  existed  between  them, 
and  of  the  strange  part  each  had  played  in  the  other's 
life.  Minna's  expansion  had  been  due  to  gratitude  to 
him  for  having  effectually  rid  her  of  Boissy,  and  to 
the  novelty  of  talking  to  a  big,  lumbering  Englishman. 

301 


Idols 

Realising,  however,  who  he  was,  she  shrank  within 
herself.  A  queer  cold  touch,  which  she  could  not 
explain,  pressed  around  her  heart.  She  had  felt  it 
before.  Once,  on  the  night,  three  years  ago,  when 
she  had  seen  Hugh  and  Irene  at  the  Hay  market  The- 
atre. She  moved  slightly  away  from  him  with  a  sense 
of  dislike.  And  yet  his  blunt,  indifferent  manner  of 
speech  pricked  her  vanity.  He  had  thrown  an  admir- 
ing glance  neither  upon  herself  nor  her  costume.  He 
should  pay  her  some  kind  of  homage  whether  she  dis- 
liked him  or  not. 

((  It's  funny  my  tumbling  upon  you  like  that/'  he 
remarked  at  last. 

44  We  generally  choose  dramatic  moments  for  our 
interviews,"  said  Minna  cynically. 

44  Yes,  by  Jove.  The  last  one  seems  a  long  time 
ago,  doesn't  r 

44  Not  to  me,"  said  Minna.  <4  But  then,  you  see, 
I  haven't  been  gold-hunting  at  the  ends  of  the  earth. 
I've  been  living  rapidly  round  a  roulette-board.  ! 
suppose  you  know  that  the  mystery  of  my  poor  father's 
death  was  cleared  up." 

44  I  saw  it  in  the  Cape  papers.      I  was  very  glad." 

There  was  another  pause.  Minna  broke  its  dis- 
comfort by  a  casual  allusion  to  the  beauties  of  Monte 
Carlo. 

44  You  have  nothing  like  this  in  South  Africa/' 
she  said. 

302 


Idols 

"  I  wish  we  had,"  he  replied.  <(  If  things  were 
always  as  jolly  as  this,  I  should  never  want  to  get  out 
of  Europe. ' ' 

He  stretched  himself  out  in  a  comfortable  attitude, 
and  looked  contentedly  at  his  companion.  The  talk 
drifted  into  generalities.  Minna  whetted  upon  him 
her  satiric  knife,  a  process  which  he  found  himself  to 
be  enjoying.  The  Jew  money-lender's  daughter,  the 
rather  common  and  silly  little  girl,  whom  he  once 
despised,  appeared  to  him  in  a  totally  new  light.  She 
had  developed  into  a  beautiful  woman,  with  a  cynical 
knowledge  of  the  world  and  an  alluring  shamelessness 
of  speech.  Her  manner  was  that  of  the  insolently 
luxurious  demi-mondaine ;  her  great  wealth  transferred 
her  to  the  sphere  of  the  unassailed.  In  this  dual, 
interfused  light,  she  appeared  a  woman  well  worth  the 
study  of  an  idle  afternoon.  She  was  certainly  a  change 
from  the  fair  frailties  of  South  Africa.  The  puffs  and 
frills  and  ribbons  of  the  daring  daffodil  costume  struck 
an  elementary  note  of  sex.  He  began  to  forget  that 
she  had  mopped  and  mowed  at  him  like  an  imbecile 
when  they  had  last  been  face  to  face.  She  was  a  new 
acquaintance.  He  found  himself  losing  the  brusque- 
ness  of  his  earlier  words,  and  dropping  into  the  tone 
of  deference  her  languid  beauty  seemed  to  command. 
When  she  arose,  in  the  intention  of  going  to  meet 
Mrs.  Delamere's  train,  and  held  out  her  hand  for 
farewell,  he  offered  his  escort  to  the  railway  station, 

303 


Idols 

with  the  air  of  a  man  begging  for  a  favour.  Minna 
was  amused,  somewhat  interested;  the  originality  of 
the  situation  gave  a  fillip  to  her  mood.  She  assented 
graciously,  and  they  proceeded  through  the  casino 
grounds. 

They  arrived  at  the  station  a  minute  or  two  before 
the  train.  Mrs.  Delamere  stepped  out  on  to  the  plat- 
form. Minna  with  a  strange  man  at  her  heels  was 
by  no  means  an  unusual  sight.  But  when  Minna 
introduced  him  as  her  old  friend,  Mr.  Merriam,  she 
arched  her  eyebrows  involuntarily,  and  glanced  at  the 
girl,  in  whose  eyes  gleamed  a  spark  of  mockery. 

"  What  has  become  of  M.  dc  Boissy  ?  "  she  asked 
on  their  way  to  the  casino. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Merriam  told  him  to  go  and  play," 
laughed  Minna. 


304 


CHAPTER   XXII 

AN  idle,  average  sensual  man,  and  an  idle  woman 
from  whom  wantonness  emanates  like  a  perfume,  can- 
not meet  each  other  every  day  for  a  couple  of  weeks 
without  rinding  themselves  progressing  by  leaps  and 
bounds  in  mutual  intimacy.  The  flesh  speaks,  the 
world  is  complaisant,  and  the  devil  leers  beatifically. 
The  attraction  which  Gerard  first  felt  towards  the 
transfigured  money-lender's  daughter  developed  quickly 
into  a  more  vivid  sentiment.  Except  that  of  an 
old  club  acquaintance  whom  he  had  run  across  in  the 
gaming-rooms,  he  had  no  other  society  than  Minna's 
in  Monte  Carlo.  She  became  his  occupation.  The 
circle  of  friends  to  whom  she  introduced  him  aroused 
his  British  contempt.  He  was  as  much  out  of  touch 
with  the  overdressed  cosmopolitan  ladies  as  with  the 
excessively  polite  cosmopolitan  men.  He  treated 
them  all  civilly  enough,  with  a  certain  uncomfortable 
indifference,  when  he  met  them  in  her  company,  but 
avoided  them  studiously  when  he  was  alone. 

Minna  held  a  reception  every  Tuesday  night  at  the 
Casa  Benedetta.  At  first,  Mrs.  Delamere  had  tried 
to  put  her  in  the  way  of  knowing  good  people.  She 
20  305 


Idols 

had  worked  and  Intrigued  most  sedulously,  and  had 
been  successful  in  inducing  a  certain  set  to  take  up  her 
charge.  But  seeing  Minna  play  recklessly  with  all 
kinds  of  fire,  they  dropped  her,  out  of  regard  for  their 
own  fingers.  Minna  called  them  TartufF»s  and  Pt 
sniffs,  uttering  scornful  doubts  as  to  the  honour  of  the 
men  and  the  chastity  of  the  women,  whereupon  Mrs. 
Dclamere  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  began  to  experi- 
ment upon  the  next  strata  of  society.  These,  by 
turns,  refusing  to  support  Minna,  she  had  come  upon 
the  riff-raff.  And  the  riff-raff  of  Monte  Carlo  is  a 
very  curious  and  heterogeneous  formation.  No  one 
knows  its  past  or  its  future.  The  men  have  perfect 
manners,  the  women  perfect  complexions.  The  ones 
arc  worth  the  others. 

Minna's  receptions  were  brilliant  enough.  They 
were  distinguished  by  animated  conversation,  excel- 
lent music,  and  irreproachable  champagne.  But  to 
the  stolid  Philistine  perception  of  Gerard  Merriam 
there  was  an  indefinable  air  of  something  wrong,  such 
as  strikes  a  guest  at  a  perfectly  well-conducted  gather- 
ing at  an  expensive  private  lunatic  asylum.  When 
the  ladies  of  the  house  were  engaged  with  their  guests, 
he  lounged,  hands  in  pockets,  by  the  door  leading  on 
to  the  loggia,  and  surveyed  the  scene  stonily.  They 
were  a  damned  lot,  he  murmured  to  himself;  and 
added  a  couple  of  uncompromising  Saxon  vocal 
indicating  the  respective  categories  under  which  the 

306 


Idols 

men  and  women  fell.  Disrepute,  as  practised  by  for- 
eigners, is  a  tawdry  and  contemptible  thing  in  respect- 
able though  immoral  British  eyes. 

Thus  he  stood  one  Tuesday  evening  some  three 
weeks  after  his  meeting  with  Minna.  The  room  was 
brilliantly  lighted.  In  a  corner  sat  an  eager  crowd 
around  a  little  roulette-table.  On  divans  and  easy 
chairs  the  remainder  of  the  company  laughed  and 
chatted.  Minna  was  the  centre  of  a  little  group  of 
men,  two  bald,  scrupulously  attired,  wearing  ribbons 
in  their  button-holes.  One  was  telling  a  story.  By 
the  guffaws  that  followed,  and  by  the  way  in  which 
Minna  held  her  fan  before  her  face,  Gerard  guessed 
its  nature.  He  glowered  at  her.  As  French  was 
spoken,  which  he  understood  very  badly,  he  felt  an 
added  sense  of  outrage. 

A  stout  lady  in  mauve  and  rubies  left  the  roulette 
and  came  over  to  Minna. 

u  Present  to  me  your  tame  bear,  my  dear,"  she 
said  in  a  shrill  falsetto.  u  He  is  sulking  because  no 
one  is  making  him  dance." 

Minna  laughed,  glanced  at  Gerard  and  met  his 
lowering  look.  Then  she  bit  her  lip.  It  was  ridicu- 
lous for  a  man  to  behave  so  foolishly.  She  rose,  re- 
signed her  seat  to  the  lady,  and  walked  with  her  slow, 
languid  step  to  Gerard. 

' (  Madame  Raborski  is  dying  to  make  your  acquaint- 
ance." 

307 


Idols 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing  to  let  her  die/'  said 
Gerard. 

"  Well,  she  will  soon.     Grant  her  this  last  favour." 

Annoyance  screwed  his  features.  <4  I  can't  talk 
inanities  to  rouged  women,"  he  said. 

4t  You  can  talk  them  to  me." 

"  You're  not  rouged.      If  you  were,  I  shouldn't." 

M  I  don't  think  you  ought  to  speak  in  this  way  of 
my  friends,"  she  remarked. 

11  I  suppose  I  am  rude,  and  I  beg  your  pardon. 
But  they're  not  your  friends.  They  arc  a  troupe  of 
mountebanks  whom  you  engage  to  entertain  you. 
Come  out  on  to  the  loggia." 

4<  And  catch  my  death  of  cold  ?     No,  thank  you." 

41  You  have  scarcely  spoken  a  word  to  me  all  the 
evening." 

"  I  speak  to  those  who  amuse  me." 
With  blackguardly  French  stories." 

11  That's  my  affair." 

t(  I  don't  like  to  see  those  fellows  leering  at  you," 
he  said,  sulkily. 

To  such  a  point  of  intimacy  had  three  weeks'  inter- 
course brought  them.  Minna  broke  into  the  low 
notes  of  her  laughter. 

"  Why  shouldn't  they  ?  It  pleases  them  and  doesn't 
hurt  me.  And  vice  vena.  Also,  you  know,  I'm  not  a 
monopolisable  woman.  If  you'll  go  and  talk  nicely  to 
Madame  Raborski,  I'll  let  you  give  me  some  supper." 

308 


Idols 

"  All  right,"  he  said;  "  where  is  the  siren  ?  " 
She  conducted  him  to  the  group,  performed  the  in- 
troduction. He  bowed  with  the  Englishman's  stiff- 
ness. The  other  men  politely  made  place  for  him. 
He  sat  down  and  endured  a  quarter  of  an  hour's 
anguish.  Minna  joined  the  roulette-players,  where 
Mrs.  Delamere  was  staking  on  even  chances,  accord- 
ing to  an  infallible  system  in  which  one  only  plays 
every  tenth  or  fifteenth  game.  It  suited  her  purse 
and  protracted  the  excitement.  After  winning  a  few 
hundred  francs,  Minna  released  Gerard  from  Madame 
Raborski,  who  had  been  trying  to  create  an  impression. 
But  the  supper-room  was  full ;  the  hostess  became  the 
centre  of  flowery  compliment,  delivered  with  much 
uplifting  of  shoulders  and  spreading  of  thin  bejewelled 
hands.  Gerard  chafed  and  felt  his  own  great  fingers 
tingle.  He  was  not  a  man  accustomed  to  the  amen- 
ities of  society.  During  his  domesticated  days,  he 
went  out  with  Irene  only  under  compulsion.  Women 
bored  him,  save  those  whom  he  appropriated  to  himself. 
Then  he  preferred  seclusion  with  the  chosen  individual. 
Among  these  easy-mannered  adventurers  and  satirical, 
sharp-witted  women,  he  seemed  as  uncouth  as  a  bear 
in  a  wilderness  of  monkeys.  The  comparison  was 
Minna's,  in  an  after  talk  with  Mrs.  Delamere.  Con- 
sciousness of  his  lack  of  adaptability  did  not  soothe  his 
temper.  He  felt  annoyed  with  himself  for  coming. 
"  Don't  look  so  glum,"  whispered  Minna.  "  Give 
309 


Idols 

me  some  of  that  pate  and  look  after  the  truffles. " 
He  helped  her  solemnly,  and  brought  the  plate  to  the 
corner  of  the  table  where  she  was  sitting.  Then 
stood  by  her,  at  attention,  while  she  jested  with  her 
neighbours.  When  she  had  finished,  he  escorted  her 
to  the  salon,  where  she  left  him  to  join  a  handsome 
woman,  in  a  very  low  dress,  who  was  playing  the 
piano.  Mrs.  Delamere,  who  had  abandoned  the  rou- 
lette-table, took  pity  on  him,  and  sat  down  with  him 
on  a  divan  against  the  wall.  Being  an  Englishwon 
of  his  own  class,  she  could  make  herself  companion- * 
able,  and  draw  him  on  to  his  own  subjects,  the  fortune 
he  had  made,  the  big  game  he  had  shot.  She  had', 
known  Freewintle,  the  mighty  hunter  with  whom  he 
had  been  associated,  and  gave  satirical  sketches  of 
family  history.  She  was  an  authority  on  genealogies, 
a  subject  which,  by  one  of  the  intellectual  freaks  not 
uncommon  in  men  of  Gerard's  type,  interested  him 
greatly.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  a  true  one,  that  all 
genealogists  are  related  to  one  another.  Mrs.  Dela- 
mere conclusively  proved  her  connection  with  the 
Norfolk  Merriams  through  the  Frccwintles.  They 
were  all  East  Anglians. 

"  You  have  done  me  good,  Mr.  Merriam,"  she 
remarked.  "  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  there  was 
such  a  thing  as  a  county  family  in  existence.  Look 
at  these  people  here — I  suppose  they  belong  to  some- 
body— but  to  whom  ? ' ' 

310 


Idols 

"  If  they  had  mothers,  it's  about  all,"  replied  Ger- 
ard, laughing.  Mrs.  Delamere  had  put  him  into  a 
good  humour.  Soon  afterwards  he  took  his  leave. 

( (  Shall  I  see  you  to-morrow  ?  "  he  asked  Minna, 
while  bidding  her  good-bye. 

"  Perhaps — I  don't  know.  If  I  go  over  to  Monte 
Carlo  you  may  meet  me  there.  There  are  too  many 
.  burdens  in  life  to  add  to  them  voluntarily  by  making 
arrangements  for  the  morrow." 

"  You  are  looking  tired,"  he  said.  "  A  course  of 
late  hours  and  stuffy  rooms  becomes  unhealthy  if  it's 
overdone.  Let  me  take  you  for  a  drive  to-morrow." 
<,  "  With  Mrs.  Delamere  ?  " 

"No.  You  alone.  I  can  get  a  decent  turn-out 
in  Nice,  I  suppose.  I'll  call  for  you  at  two  o'clock." 

1 1  Where  are  you  staying  ?  ' ' 

"  At  the  Grande  Bretagne." 

"  I'll  send  you  word  in  the  morning.  It  depends 
how  I  feel."  ' 

"  I  shall  be  wretchedly  disappointed  if  you  don't 
come." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  she  said  with  her  lazy  intonation. 
"  Nous  verrons." 

Later,  when  the  guests  had  gone,  Mrs.  Delamere 
began  to  sound  Gerard's  praises.  He  was  a  thorough 
Englishman,  intelligent,  masculine.  Not  like  the 
effeminate  creatures  who  had  never  seen  a  gun  go  off 
in  their  lives  or  ridden  anything  more  spirited  than  a 

3" 


Idols 

Turbic  donkey.  He  was  like  a  colossus  amid  these 
little  men,  she  said,  with  a  vague  reminiscence  of 
Shakespeare.  It  was  then  that  Minna  snapped  out 
her  bear  and  monkey  comparison.  She  was  thoroughly 
weary,  lay  back  exhausted  and  spiritless  in  a  chair,  and 
regarded  Gerard's  apologist  with  an  air  of  tired  resig- 
nation. The  room  was  hot  and  stale  with  the  breaths 
of  many  people,  and  the  refuse  of  many  perfumes. 

44  Bear  or  not/'  replied  Mrs.  Delamere,  drawing 
some  crumpled  and  greasy  bank  notes  from  the  pocket 
of  her  black  silk  dress,  and  delicately  folding  them,  '  •  I 
like  to  meet  an  honest,  healthy  English  gentleman 
again.  And  I  pity  the  man.  I  always  pity  men 
whose  wives  go  wrong." 

44  Pearls  before  swine,"  said  Minna,  listlessly. 

44  Oh,  I  am  not  so  hard  as  that  upon  the  women." 

44  You  mistake  my  meaning,"  said  Minna.  t4  He 
is  the  hog." 

Mrs.  Delamere  looked  up  surprised. 

(t  I  thought  you  disliked  her  so.  And  you  certainly 
have  been  encouraging  him." 

Minna  drew  her  body  together  in  a  kind  of  shudder, 
and  threw  out  her  hand  in  a  gesture  of  repulsion. 

44  He  gives  me  the  creeps!  "  she  said. 

Mrs.  Delamcre  did  not  reply.      She  rose  and  gath- 
ered her  gloves  and  fan  from  a  table  where  they  were 
lying,  and  then  came  calmly  up  to  Minna's  chair. 
You  are  overdone.      It  is  time  for  bed." 


Idols 

She  was  not  without  kindly  instincts.  In  her 
placid,  well-bred  way,  she  stooped  and  put  her  arm 
beneath  Minna's  and  helped  her  to  rise.  She  stood 
for  a  moment  without  withdrawing  her  arm. 

"  You  are  leading  aweary  life,  my  poor  child/' 
she  said. 

Minna  looked  at  her  for  a  minute.  Her  lips  quiv- 
ered. 

"  Oh!  a  hell  of  a  life,"  she  whispered. 

And  to  Mrs.  Delamere's  consternation,  the  girl 
gave  one  or  two  little  convulsive  sobs  and,  turning 
swiftly,  burst  into  miserable  crying  upon  her  shoulder. 

"  I  wish  I  were  dead.  I  can't  find  peace  or  happi- 
ness anywhere.  It  is  a  hell  of  a  life!  " 

The  elder  woman  soothed  her  as  best  she  could. 
Eventually  Minna  dried  her  eyes,  kissed,  for  the  first 
time,  her  friend's  faded  cheek,  and  went  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Why  is  it,"  said  Mrs.  Delamere  to  herself,  "  that 
when  a  woman  wants  to  go  to  the  devil,  she  always 
does  so  by  water  ?  " 

Gerard  was  up  early  the  next  morning,  and  after 
enquiries  went  in  search  of  a  respectable  turn-out  for 
the  proposed  drive.  He  found  a  high  American 
phaeton  and  a  pair  of  Irish  ponies  which  the  livery 
stable  keeper  had  recently  purchased  from  a  dissipated 
young  Englishman  who,  having  ruined  himself  at  the 
tables,  had  hurriedly  hastened  to  England  to  enlist  in 

313 


Idols 

a  foot  regiment.  On  returning  towards  the  Public 
Gardens,  he  encountered  his  club  acquaintance  sitting 
outside  the  Caff  de  la  Victoire.  He  joined  him  in  an 
aptritif)  described  his  recent  hire.  The  friend  smiled 
indulgently. 

"  I  suppose  it's  for  the  Queen  of  Sheba." 
Gerard  frowned  surprise.      "  Who's  that  ?  " 
<(  The  girl  I've  seen  you  with  several  times.      They 
call  her  that,  I  suppose,  because  she's  wealthy,  du- 
and  indiscreet." 

"  I   used   to   know  her  in  London  long  ago," 
Gerard,  stiffly. 

Suddenly  the  man  remembered,  flushed,  and  apolo- 
gised. 

I'm  awfully  sorry.  A  thousand  pardons.  But 
one  gets  into  a  bad  way  of  talking  of  public  characters 
— and  unfortunately  every  one  talks  of  the  lady  by 
that  name." 

Gerard  sipped  his  vermouth  coolly. 
11  What  do  you  know  about  her  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing  much.      Really— I " 

<(  It  would  rather  interest  me  to  learn,"  insisted 
Gerard. 

u  Well,  she  squanders  a  lot  of  money  at  the  tablrs. 
And  then  she's  always  attached  to  some  new  man  or 
the  other.  Somewhat  speckled,  you  see,  in  reputation. 
Introduction  not  necessary.  That  sort  of  thing.  I 
don't  know  if  it's  true.  I  hope  not." 

3'4 


Idols 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  it's  true,"  said  Gerard.  "  Women 
generally  live  a  bit  below  their  reputation.'* 

"I'm  glad  my  indiscretion  was  not  serious/'  said 
his  friend. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no,"  laughed  Gerard;  and,  turning  the 
subject  aside,  <c  If  you  are  doing  nothing  you  might  as 
well  come  and  have  some  lunch  with  me  at  the  Grande 
Bretagne." 

The  friend  assented.  They  strolled  off  together. 
At  the  hotel,  the  hall-porter  gave  Gerard  a  note  which 
had  just  arrived.  It  was  a  line  from  Minna  promising 
to  be  ready  for  the  drive.  He  felt  by  no  means  dis- 
pleased by  his  friend's  gossip;  if  anything,  rather  more 
settled  in  his  mind.  A  beautiful  and  courted  woman 
with  several  thousands  a  year  commanded  deference. 
The  Queen  of  Sheba,  of  Monte  Carlo  scandal,  on  the 
other  hand,  was  fair  game.  And  the  ease  of  the  chase 
appealed  to  a  man  who  was  too  masculine  in  his  tastes 
to  have  cultivated  the  delicate  gallantries  of  philander- 
ing. He  crushed  the  note  roughly  into  his  pocket. 

"  A  put  off?  "  queried  his  friend. 

"  I  guess  not,"  replied  Gerard  fatuously. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

\VHY  Minna  sent  the  note  of  acquiescence  she  her-  ' 
•elf  could  not  tell.      Her  caprices  were  past  account-  ] 
ing  for.     Vanity  had  its  share.     The  man  whom  she] 
had  regarded  as  the  most  contemptuous  and  remotr 
a   priggish   society  was   now  at   her   feet.      RcvengcJ 
prompted  her  to  pay  her  ancient  grudge  against  that 
society  by  kicking  him  as  he  grovelled.     Again,  ilt  s~ 
perate    satiety    drove    her   to    new  sensations.      And 
ly,  a  reaction  from  her  cxpansiveness  of  the  night] 
before  set  her  obstinately  counter  to  Mrs.  Delamere's] 
somewhat  injudicious  advice  to  remain  within  doors. 

She  kept  him  waiting  in  the  loggia  for  half  an  hour, 
while  the  ponies  stamped  and  rattled  their  bits  below.  1 
At  last  she  appeared,  dressed  in  her  flaring  daffodil-] 
yellow  costume,  which  she  had  not  worn   since  her 
original  encounter  with  him.      She  met  him  somewhat 
defiantly,  without  apology  for  her  delay. 

<(  Do  I  look  decent  ?  "   she  enquired  nonchalantly 
of  Mrs.    Delamere,  who  had   been   keeping   Gerard! 
company. 

((  You  look  ripping,"  said  Gerard. 

She  signed  to  him  that  she  was  ready  to  start.      He 


Idols 

picked  up  his  hat  and  gloves  from  the  balustrade  and 
followed  her  downstairs,  helped  her  into  the  high 
phaeton,  took  the  reins  from  the  man  at  the  horses' 
heads,  and  turned  out  of  the  front  gate.  Then  a  cut 
of  the  whip  sent  the  ponies  at  a  dashing  pace  down 
the  Cimiez  Road,  through  the  town,  towards  the  sea. 

"  We  will  go  Antibes  way,  along  the  coast,"  said 
Gerard. 

u  Anywhere  except  the  Corniche  road,"  replied 
Minna.  "  I  am  sick  of  it." 

( (  You  seem  to  be  sick  of  most  things.  Why  so  ? 
You've  got  money  and  beauty  and  independence. 
What  more  can  you  want  ?  ". 

u  Suppose  I  said  I  wanted  somebody  to  understand 
me — some  one  whom  I  could  meet  soul  to  soul  ?  " 
she  said  sarcastically.  "  Don't  you  ever  feel  that  ? >! 

He  laughed,  as  he  piloted  the  ponies  past  a  com- 
pany of  bicyclists,  at  whose  machines  they  seemed 
cisposed  to  shy. 

u  I've  heard  too  much  of  that  jargon,"  he  an- 
swered. "  I've  been  cured  of  a  belief  in  souls." 

"  Or  if  they  do  exist,"  said  Minna,  "  people  only 
talk  of  them  as  they  do  of  their  livers — when  they  are 
diseased." 

' c  You  began  talking  of  yours.  Is  it  out  of  order  ? 
You  try  it  a  bit,  don't  you  ?  " 

Hardened  as  Minna  was,  and  readily  as  she  would 
have  laughed  at  the  speech  coming  from  the  lips  of 


Idols 

another  man,  yet  in  the  remorseful  bitterness  of  her 
heart,  which  this  sudden  association  with  him  seemed 
to  have  swelled  to  sensitive  tenseness,  she  felt  his 
words  jar  through  her  body. 

"  One's  own  self-mockery  is  enough,"  she  replied, 
coldly. 

"  Oh,  come,"  he  cried  with  a  laugh,  "  we  are  noil 
going  to  turn  ourselves  inside  out,  as  if  we  were  at  ai 
London  afternoon  tea  and  anatomy  crush.  It's  rougfl 
on  the  ponies.  You  haven't  even  admired  them." 

As  they  turned  on  to  the  smooth  white  road  between*) 
the  Public  Gardens  and  the  sea,  and  dashed  down  thoj 
long   Promenade  des   Anglais,    with  great  clatter  ofl 
hoofs  and  tossing  of  impatient  heads,  Gerard  felt  the 
man's  pride  in  association  with  respectable  horseflesh.^ 
He  was   in   luck.      Such  a  turn-out  is  not  to  be  mcfl 
with  in  every  Riviera  livery  stable.     And  the  elemental 
pride  in  temporary  possession  of  female  beauty  added 
to  his  satisfaction.      Yet  the  fact  that  he  was  driving 
the  notorious  Queen  of  Sheba,  before  the  eyes  of  all 
Nice,  brought  a  satirical  smile  to  his  I 

11  There  would  be  a  nice  little  scandal  about,  if, 
either  of  us  were  attached,"  he  said.  i(  It  is  com* 
fortablc  not  to  have  to  bother  about  the  propric 

<(  I  consider  this  Bayswatery  in  its  conventional 
replied  Minna.      "  If  you  look  upon  this  as  an  adven- 
ture, I  wonder  what  you'd   think   of  anything   really 
audacious." 


Idols 

"  I  am  ready  to  commit  any  audacity.     Name  one." 

She  leaned  back  and  twirled  her  parasol  languishly. 
To  see  her  face  he  had  to  turn  his  head. 

* '  I  will  kiss  you  now  if  you  like,  coram  publico. 
You're  bewitching  enough,"  he  said  in  his  rough 
fashion. 

u  The  idea  is  unimaginative  and — repulsive,"  re- 
plied Minna.  And  she  began  to  look  idly  at  the  sea. 

It  was  at  its  loveliest  that  afternoon,  melting  through 
all  gradations  from  cobalt  to  pale  turquoise,  flecked 
with  the  rich  tones  of  the  brown  Mediterranean  sails, 
and  meeting  far  ahead  in  a  sapphire  haze  the  dreamy 
stretch  of  the  Cap  d'Antibes.  But  Minna's  thoughts 
were  far  from  its  intoxicating  beauty.  She  wished 
she  had  not  come  for  this  drive.  This  man  was  get- 
ting upon  her  nerves.  She  had  half  intended  to  lash 
him  with  ridicule  and  set  him  adrift.  But  she  lacked 
courage.  In  his  last  admiring  glance  she  had  read 
that  which  made  her  fear.  Her  nervousness  began  to 
grow  hysterical,  especially  after  the  lapse  of  some 
minutes  during  which  he  had  not  spoken. 

<(  Do  say  something,"  she  said  at  last,  irritably. 

u  I  thought  you  were  absorbed  in  the  poetry  of 
nature,"  he  replied. 

"  You  Englishmen  are  so  heavy.  You  were  scan- 
dalised at  meeting  a  crowd  of  shady  foreigners  at  my 
house  last  night.  They  can  talk  amusingly.  That's 
why." 

319 


Id 

<c  An  Englishman  generally  acts,  which  is  better," 
said  Gerard. 

They  pursued  the  theme  for  a  while;  then,  piqued 
by  her  disadvantageous  comparison,  he  began  to  make 
love  outright.  As  he  proceeded,  her  sense  of  loathing 
and  of  impotence  increased.  She  scarcely  spoke. 
Gerard  took  her  silence  for  assumption  of  mode 
the  satirical  smile  deepened  about  his  lips. 

The  ponies  went  down  the  white  road  at  a  spank- 
ing pace.  They  had  reached  the  open  country  and 
traffic  was  scanty.  The  road  undulated  between 
banks  pungent  with  thyme  and  rosemary;  now  rose  in 
full  view  of  the  sea  and  the  great  sweep  of  coast,  now 
skirted  villas  nestling  in  the  slopes  that  heave  down- 
wards to  the  shore  from  the  cool  grey  Maritime  Alps, 
shimmering  against  the  violet  sky.  Swarthy,  bare- 
legged children  ran  out  from  the  wayside  cottages  to 
stare  at  the  wheels  flashing  amidst  the  cloud  of  dust,  and 
now  and  then  a  great  shovel-hatted  cure*  looked  up  from 
his  greasy  breviary  as  the  English  couple  dashed  by. 
Suddenly  at  the  top  of  a  steep  incline  a  bicyclist  whirred 
past  them, and  coasted  swiftly  down.  The  ponies  shied, 
plunged.  The  phaeton  was  not  fitted  with  a  brake. 
Gerard,  deep  in  amorous  schemes  and  taken  off 
guard,  slashed  the  ponies,  tried  to  pull  them  up,bungled, 
with  the  result  that  they  bolted  furiously  down  the  hill. 

Minna,  physically   timid,    shrieked   and   fastened  a 
desperate  clasp  on  Gerard's  arm. 

320 


Idols 

( '  All  right !  Hold  on  tight.  Not  my  arm.  Noth- 
ing will  happen,"  he  said  reassuringly.  The  cyclist, 
hearing  the  frightened  horses  thundering  behind  him, 
set  his  feet  on  the  pedals,  put  on  the  brake,  and  drifted 
into  the  hedge.  The  light  carriage  leapt  and  swung. 
Minna  was  terrified.  In  her  fright  she  had  left  her 
parasol  to  the  winds,  and  clung  to  Gerard's  body  with 
both  hands.  She  was  very  near  him;  for  a  second  he 
took  his  eyes  from  the  tossing  manes  and  kissed  her 
on  her  open  mouth.  She  uttered  a  little  cry  and  turned 
aside  her  head.  But  excitement  had  warmed  his  blood. 
He  kissed  her  again;  she  could  not  get  beyond  his 
reach ;  dared  not  relax  her  grasp  for  fear  of  instant 
death.  He  had  her  at  his  mercy.  As  soon  as  he 
became  aware  of  regained  control  of  the  animals,  he 
let  them  follow,  for  a  time,  their  foolish  course,  and 
kissed  the  frenzied  girl  beside  him  over  and  over  again, 
heedless  of  her  struggles  and  cries. 

At  last  came  a  slight  ascent  and  Gerard's  powerful 
arms  brought  the  ponies  to  their  senses.  They  broke 
into  a  moderate  pace,  and,  all  danger  being  over, 
Minna  relaxed  her  hold  and  drew  as  far  from  Gerard 
as  she  could. 

u  You  brute!"  she  cried  tempestuously.  "  You 
brute  !  You  cowardly  brute !  " 

With  a  mighty  wrench  he  pulled  up  the  ponies  at 
the  top  of  the  rise,  and  they  stood  trembling,  spatter- 
ing their  chests  with  foam.  He  turned  to  reply  to 
21  321 


Idols 

Minna,   but   she   rose  suddenly   and,  before  he  could 
interfere,    was  clambering  out  of  the  high  phaeton. 

I  shall  not  stay  a  moment  longer  with  you.  I 
shall  walk  back,  if  I  die  from  it." 

She  missed  the  step,  and  fell  heavily  to  the  ground. 
A  peasant  in  a  blue  blouse,  who  was  working  in  a 
little  patch  of  garden  by  the  side  of  the  road,  ran  up 
and  assisted  her  to  rise.  Then  hailed  by  Gerard,  he 
went  to  the  horses'  heads,  and  Gerard  sprang  to 
Minna's  assistance. 

(<  You  haven't  hurt  yourself 

11  I  hr,  r  twisted  my  foot,"  she  said  sullenly,  steady- 
ing herself  by  the  phaeton.  She  was  pale  with  anger 
and  pain.  Her  veil  and  hat  were  awry,  one  of  her 
gloves  had  split.  The  daffodil-yellow  costume  was 
white  with  dust.  The  consciousness  of  her  aspect 
incensed  her  further. 

"  You're  in  a  great  mess,"  he  said.  And  clumsily 
he  began  to  brush  the  dust  from  her  skirt.  But  she 
twitched  it  away  from  him  with  her  free  hand. 

"  Don't  touch  me,"  she  said  angrily.  He  stood 
up,  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  looked  at  her 
somewhat  satirically. 

I  am  awfully  sorry.  But  I'll  have  to  do  some- 
thing for  you,  if  you  have  twisted  your  foot.  You 
can't  remain  there  all  the  afternoon." 

44  It's  better,"  she  declared.  (<  Leave  me — go 
away — I  can  walk  home." 

322 


Idols 

With  the  words  she  removed  her  supporting  hand 
and  put  her  weight  upon  the  sprained  foot.  But  she 
uttered  an  involuntary  little  cry,  and  would  have  fallen, 
had  not  Gerard  sprang  forward  and  caught  her. 

"  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  accept  my  escort  back," 
he  said. 

For  reply  she  called  out  in  French  to  the  man  who 
was  holding  the  ponies. 

u  Is  there  an  inn  or  cafe"  near  by  ?  " 

The  man  broke  into  polite  smiles,  showing  his  white 
teeth.  Effectively  there  was  an  inn,  just  at  the  turn 
of  the  road.  Many  visitors  from  Nice  stopped  there 
to  eat  fruit  and  drink  coffee.  Madame  had  hurt  her- 
self, without  doubt,  and  wanted  to  rest.  She  would 
find  herself  quite  comfortable  there. 

"  I  shall  gc  to  the  inn,"  she  said,  turning  to  Ger- 
ard. "  Perhaps  you'll  leave  word  at  my  house  to 
send  me  a  comfortable  carriage.  You  need  not  come 
back  with  it." 

"  Oh,  nonsense,"  he  replied.  "  I  can  lift  you 
into  the  phaeton  and  lift  you  out  again.  It's  idiotic 
to  make  this  fuss." 

u  I'd  sooner  crawl  than  drive  back  with  you,"  she 
flashed,  vindictively. 

Two  sturdy  and  swarthy  peasants  had  meanwhile 
come  up  with  the  group,  and  pausing  by  the  horse- 
tender,  received  a  voluble  account  of  the  situation. 
Gerard  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

323 


Idols 

44  How  do  you  propose  to  get  to  the  inn  ?  " 

<c  These  creatures  will  carry  me." 

(<  I  suppose  you  know  you're  making  yourself  su- 
premely ridiculous  ?  " 

44  I  am  accustomed  to  do  what  I  choose,"  retorted 
Minna.  44  Dites  done,  vow,"  she  said  to  the  new 
arrivals. 

They  hastened  to  her  side.  Gerard  moved  off  a 
few  steps  and  lit  a  cigar.  She  explained  her  desires. 
The  inborn  gallantry  of  the  children  of  the  South 
manifested  itself  in  expressions  of  delight.  They 
made  the  military  ambulance  scat  for  her  with  crossed 
hands,  took  her  up  and  set  off  at  a  brisk  pace.  Ger- 
ard marched  behind  them  sardonically,  cursing  under 
his  breath,  and  signed  to  the  third  man  to  follow  with 
the  ponies  and  phaeton.  They  formed  a  singular 
procession.  At  the  turn  of  the  road  the  little  inn 
came  in  sight,  upon  the  brow  of  an  embankment  over- 
looking the  road.  It  was  a  squat  white  building  with 
44  Au  S/jour  du  Solfilt9  inscribed  in  enormous  lett 
across  its  facade.  In  front  of  it  stood  a  ramshackle 
arbour  of  lattice  work,  covered  with  straggling  vine, 
beneath  which  were  rough  tables  and  benches  blistered 
by  the  sun.  Leaving  the  carriage  in  the  road  below, 
Gerard  followed  the  bearers  up  the  steep  path  to  the 
door  of  the  inn.  The  place  was  quite  deserted,  save 
for  some  fowls,  a  goat  tethered  to  a  post,  and  the 
buxom  patronnt  who  was  grinding  coffee  in  the  arbour. 

324 


Idols 

The  bearers  put  Minna  to  the  ground,  and  she  stood 
on  one  foot  supporting  herself  between  them.  The 
landlady  left  her  coffee,  and  rushed  out  to  meet  her. 

"  I  want  a  room  for  an  hour  or  two,  where  I  can  lie 
down  until  a  carriage  comes  to  me  from  Nice.  This 
gentleman  will  fetch  it,"  said  Minna. 

An  interval  of  explanation  and  enquiry  followed. 
Then  the  patronne  entered  the  house  to  look  after  the 
room. 

"  You  need  not  wait/'  said  Minna  to  Gerard, 
coldly. 

' (  I  want  to  satisfy  myself  that  you  are  comfort- 
able," he  replied,  sitting  down  on  one  of  the  benches. 

The  landlady  reappeared  in  smiling  bustle.  The 
room  was  quite  ready,  if  Madame  would  deign  to 
enter  and  occupy  it.  The  two  peasants  took  up  their 
charming  daffodil  bundle  and  vanished  into  the  house, 
from  which  they  emerged  a  moment  or  two  afterwards 
with  glowing  faces.  Gerard  responded  to  their  low 
bows  and  profuse  acknowledgments  of  Monsieur  and 
Madame' s  generosity,  with  an  Englishman's  impatient 
nod,  and  continued  to  swear  softly  to  himself  as  he 
smoked.  He  rose  and  walked  to  and  fro  before  the 
inn,  chafing  at  the  ignominious  position  in  which 
Minna  had  placed  him.  Like  most  men  of  somewhat 
flaccid  fibre  he  cursed,  now  that  it  was  too  late,  his 
folly  in  yielding  to  her  caprice.  If  he  had  taken  her 
up  bodily  and  set  her  in  the  phaeton  and  driven  off 

325 


Idols 

with  her,  this  tomfoolery  would  have  been  avoided. 
As  for  tamely  going  back  for  the  carriage,  it  was  out 
of  the  question.  He  would  see  her,  at  any  rate,  be- 
fore he  started,  and  try  to  bring  her  to  a  state  of  rea- 
son. He  was  not  the  man  to  slink  off  with  his  tail 
between  his  legs,  after  a  slapped  face,  like  a  certain 
little  cur  of  a  Frenchman  whom  he  remembered. 
Her  tantrums  were  preposterous.  She,  the  Queen  of 
Sheba,  to  put  on  the  prude  for  a  few  snatched  kisses ! 
He  laughed  disagreeably.  His  pride  and  his  passions 
were  armed  allies.  But  he  was  not  free  from  some 
pricks  of  compunction  with  regard  to  her  accident. 
He  had  not  intended  to  behave  brutally,  and  yet  his 
solicitude  had  not  been  very  tenderly  manifested. 

"  But,  confound  it,  it's  her  own  fault,"  he  ex^ 
claimed,  with  a  stamp  of  his  foot. 

Ten  minutes  passed.  He  waited  for  a  glimpse  of 
the  patronne.  At  last  he  caught  sight  of  her  in  the 
public  room  of  the  inn.  She  came,  at  his  summons, 
to  the  door.  In  his  bad  French,  he  explained  his  de- 
sire to  see  the  invalid.  Nothing  doubting  as  to  his 
right,  the  woman  bustled  before  him,  and  throwing 
open  the  door  of  a  room,  bade  him  enter.  He  strode 
boldly  in.  The  chamber  was  rather  dark,  owing  to 
the  shutters  being  closed  against  the  westering  sun. 
A  wooden  table,  a  huge  press,  and  a  great  four-post  bed 
with  white  curtains  took  up  most  of  the  space.  On 
the  bed  lay  Minna,  with  rumpled  hair,  her  feet  cov- 

326 


Idols 

ered  with  a  shawl.  A  shoe  and  a  stocking  lying  on 
the  table  by  her  hat,  showed  that  her  hurt  had  been 
tended.  She  rose,  indignantly,  to  a  sitting  posture  as 
he  entered. 

"  What  have  you  come  here  for?  Why  haven't  you 
gone  for  the  carriage  ?  I  can't  stay  here  all  night." 

"  I  want  to  make  friends  first,"  he  said  mildly. 
"  Come,  let  us  forget  this  little  episode.  You  are 
angry  with  me  for  kissing  you.  Well,  you  know, 
Minna,  I  wouldn't  have  kissed  you  if  I  hadn't  cared 
for  you,  and  if  you  hadn't  been  so  lovely  and  so  near 
to  me." 

"  Oh,  go,  for  goodness'  sake,"  she  said,  twining 
her  fingers  together,  nervously.  His  presence  seemed 
to  suffocate  her. 

"  No,  I  am  not  going,"  he  answered,  with  sudden 
temper.  "  I  am  not  the  sort  of  man  to  be  ordered 
about.  I  am  not  going  to  stir  a  foot  until  we  literally 
kiss  and  make  friends.  You  know  perfectly  well  I 
have  fallen  in  love  with  you.  I  wanted  to  have  you 
all  by  yourself  to-day  to  tell  you  so.  So  I  tell  you. 
I  love  you,  and  I  insist  on  being  heard." 

"  You  love  me?"  she  said  with  great  contempt. 
"You  look  like  it!" 

She  jerked  herself  backwards  so  as  to  find  support 
against  the  pillows  as  she  sat. 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?  "  she  asked  him, 
with  an  ugly  look  on  her  face. 

327 


Idols 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  made  no  plans  what- 
ever, the  rtU  of  theatrical  libertine  never  having  come 
within    his   experience.      But   her   question   gave    an 
opening  for  the  brute  that  necessarily  lingers  in  n 
men. 

*  I'll  stay  here  all  night,  until  you  kiss  me  of  your 
own  free  will." 

44  I  have  always  thought  of  you  as  a  coward,"  shr 
said.  "  I  suppose  that's  a  threat  to  compromise  me. 
It  won't  do  me  much  harm,  I  assure  you." 

He  threw  his  hat  and  gloves  on  the  table  and  came 
close  to  the  bedside.  The  brute  led  him  on.  Hei 
beauty  had  captivated  him.  Her  scorn  angered  him. 

v  blue  eyes  gleamed. 

r  you  don't  do  what  I  ask — it's  a  very  small 
thing — I'll  take  it  by  force  and  I'll  stay  here  all  nL 
and  I'll  follow  you  wherever  you  go  and  sec  you  every 
day,  until  you  come  to  your  senses.  I  love  you  and 
I'm  not  going  to  be  trifled  with.  And  I'm  damned  if 
can  say  you  have  given  me  no  encouragement." 

He  bent  forward.  She  thought  he  was  going  to 
throw  his  arms  round  her.  All  the  pent-up  hatred  of 
him,  all  the  fermenting  elements  of  self-loathing,  re- 
morse, and  despair,  all  the  agonising  recrudescence  of 
hopeless,  passionate  love  for  the  man  that  was  and 
was  not  her  husband,  found  vent  in  a  hoarse  inart 
late  cry.  And  then  she  lost  control  of  reason,  and 
burst  into  passionate  invective. 


Idols 

"  You  love  me !  You !  You  think  a  woman  who 
knows  what  you  are  would  have  anything  to  do  with 
you,  save  fool  you  and  throw  you  aside.  You  who 
threw  away  a  wife  that  was  worth  ten  million  of  me, 
and  a  friend  that  was  worth  twenty  million  of  you. 
I  hate  you.  I  despise  you.  I  despise  you  as  much 
as  I  despise  myself,  and  that's  saying  a  good  deal." 
She  spat  the  words  at  him :  * '  When  you  were  living 
smugly  with  your  wife,  you  looked  down  upon  me. 
Now  you  have  got  rid  of  her,  you  come  to  me  like  a 
brute  and  a  coward." 

"  You'll  kindly  leave  Mrs.  Merriam  out  of  the 
discussion,"  said  Gerard  sardonically. 

"  She's  the  whole  question,"  cried  Minna.  "  She 
and  nothing  else — she  who  has  been  my  burning  tor- 
ture and  shame  for  four  years.  Do  you  think,  be- 
cause I  live  recklessly  like  a  wanton  woman,  that  I 
can't  feel  degradation  ?  And  you  shall  feel  it  too. 
You  fool !  You  worse  than  fool !  She  was  as  pure  as 
a  saint — as  one  of  your  Christian  saints  in  heaven — and 
I  was  jealous  of  her — I  didn't  know  her  then — but 

you Do  you  know  where  Hugh  Colman  was  that 

night  of  the  murder  ?  He  was  with  me — all  night. 
The  thieves  came  in  by  the  window  I  had  unbolted 
for  him.  He  had  been  married  to  me  for  nearly  a 
year.  We  had  quarrelled.  It  was  my  fault.  I 
thought  I  hated  him.  Oh,  God,  if  you  knew  how  I 
love  him  now !  Then  you  would  know  what  love  is !  ' 

329 


Idols 

She  paused  for  breath,  which  came  pantingly. 
Gerard  stood  stiff,  his  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  unmoving, 
as  if  turned  to  stone.  He  passed  his  tongue  over  his 
lips.  The  enormity  of  his  folly  paralysed  him.  At 
last  words  came. 

44  What  kept  him  silent  then 

((  As  if  you  could  understand,"  she  cried  in  her 
passionate  scorn.  "  The  honour  of  the  bravest  man 
that  ever  lived.  That  night — he  had  seen  my  father's 
will — all  my  money  to  go  if  I  married  a  Christian — 
we  swore  to  part  for  ever  and  keep  our  marriage  secret. 
I  kept  him  to  his  promise.  I  let  him  go  through  all 
that  horror — I  was  coming  to  tell  you  that  awful  night 
— I  was  taken  ill.  Your  wife  saved  his  life,  not  his. 
And  I  have  been  in  hell  fire  ever  since." 

44  And  there  I  hope  to  God  you'll  remain,"  said 
Gerard  in  a  low  voice. 

44  You  shall  taste  some  of  it  with  me.  Go  to  her 
now  and  ask  her  to  forgive  you." 

I  shall  order  the  carriage  for  you,"  said  Gerard. 
And  without  another  word  he  turned  and  walked  out 
of  the  room. 

44  He  will  order  the  carriage  for  me.  Ha!  Ha!  " 
cried  Minna. 

The  buxom  patronnt  heard  the  laugh,  pricked  up 
her  ears,  and  flew  to  the  beautiful  lady's  assistance. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

GERARD  gave  the  man  who  was  holding  the  ponies 
a  five-franc  piece,  and  drove  back  at  a  break-neck 
pace.  Minna's  revelation  and  taunts  had  set  him  in 
a  frame  of  mind  bordering  on  madness.  He  did  not 
stop  to  question  the  truth  of  her  statement.  It  cast 
too  lurid  a  light  upon  the  dark  places  of  the  mystery 
of  four  years  ago.  His  egregious  folly  danced  before 
his  eyes.  The  wrong  inflicted  on  a  heroic  woman 
and  a  loyal  man  loomed  before  him  in  ghastly  signifi- 
cance. He  could  not  hide  behind  sophistries.  He 
was  not  a  bad  man,  to  contemplate  the  consequences 
of  his  actions  with  cynical  complacency.  Deep  down 
in  him  lingered  the  conscience  of  the  moral,  :*"  inver- 
tebrate, Briton.  His  conscience  was  appalled  at  the 
irreparable  injury.  Minna  was  suddenly  transformed 
from  the  desired  flesh  feminine  into  an  unthinkable 
Ate.  Irene  assumed  a  new  radiance  of  martyrdom. 
In  the  searchlight  that  was  sweeping  his  horizon,  he 
saw  her  transcendent  faith  in  his  equal  greatness  of 
soul ;  saw,  too,  his  own  ignoble  narrowness  of  compre- 
hension. He  had  been  a  fool,  besotted  by  his  own 
brutality.  He  lashed  the  ponies  viciously.  A  man 

331 


Idols 

translates  into  external  fury  the  shudder  that  a  flash  of 
self-knowledge  sends  through  his  soul. 

Yet  the  story  he  had  heard  was  amazing;  compelling 
credence,  as  Tcrtullian  has  it,  quia  impossibilt.  All 
its  elements  were  characterised  by  a  marvellous  in- 
tensity. What  he  had  taken  for  a  vulgar  intrigue  had 
really  been  a  drama  of  fierce  passions  and  noble  hero- 
isms, in  which  he  alone  had  played  a  vulgar  part. 
His  gorge  rose  at  the  idea  of  the  sorry  figure  he  must 
have  appeared  in  the  eyes  of  each  of  the  three. 

The  ponies  dashed,  sweating  and  dusty,  up  to  the 
front  of  the  Villa  Benedetta,  before  he  realised  how 
the  journey  had  been  accomplished.  Mrs.  Delamere, 

nmoned  in  haste,  descended  to  meet  him.  Seeing 
him  alone  and  agitated,  and  the  ponies  dripping,  she 
grew  pale. 

44  Where  is  Minna?" 

44  She  has  twisted  her  ankle.  Wouldn't  drive  back 
with  me.  You  are  to  send  a  closed  landau  for  her  at 
once.  You  will  find  her  at  the  Stfour  du  SoUil^  on  the 
road  before  you  get  to  Var." 

%4  Aren't  you  going  back  with  the  carriage  ?  " 

44  No,"  he  replied  brusquely.  4i  You  send  it. 
You  needn't  be  alarmed.  She  is  not  hurt." 

44  Then  I  suppose  I  may  guess  the  reason ?  " 

44  You  may  guess  anything  you  choose,  Mrs.  Dela- 
mere," said  Gerard.  44  Good  evening. "  And  turn- 
ing the  ponies,  he  drove  off. 

332 


Idols 

Half  an  hour  later  he  was  back  in  his  hotel,  where 
he  spent  the  evening  trying  to  face  the  situation. 
There  was  only  one  course  open  to  him.  Humilia- 
tion at  Irene's  feet.  It  was  but  her  due.  And  then  ? 
He  was  baffled.  He  would  offer  remarriage.  Per- 
haps she  would  accept.  After  all,  he  had  been  her 
husband,  she  his  wife.  In  his  commonplace  system 
of  ethics,  the  fact  counted  for  much.  But  Irene  was 
different  from  other  women.  He  had  a  dim  concep- 
tion of  her  as  something  spiritual  and  masterful.  Had 
she  been  of  commoner  mould,  perhaps  he  would  not 
have  chafed  at  his  shackles.  What  a  worm  he  had 
been !  In  his  chastened  mood,  the  meanness  of  his 
eager  belief  in  her  guilt  smote  him  sorely.  He  had 
been  a  blackguard  all  through.  Gradually,  as  the 
hours  passed,  the  atmosphere  of  remorse  grew  denser, 
and  through  it,  by  a  kind  of  spiritual  refraction,  the 
illusory  image  of  the  long  set  sun  of  love  appeared 
above  his  horizon. 

His  late  pursuit  of  the  female  had,  in  some  co- 
ordinating fashion,  put  him  on  the  track  of  the  femi- 
nine. The  convulsion  in  his  mind  caused  him  to 
grasp  at  elusive  supports.  Remorse  craved  atone- 
ment. The  many  astounding  factors  in  his  situation, 
when  he  grew  tired  of  considering  each  in  turn,  all 
combined  to  produce  a  queer,  unnatural  sentimentality. 
Without  the  dew  of  womanly  sympathy,  life  seemed 
parched  with  sudden  aridness.  He  lay  awake  that 

333 


Idols 

night,  deluding  himself  into  the  longing  for  a  lost  para- 
dise. He  made  magnanimous  resolves.  He  would 
win  back  Irene,  humble  himself  before  Hugh.  The 
next  day  he  started  for  London,  his  head  swimming 
with  sick  and  angry  fantasies. 

And  meanwhile,  in  her  darkened  room  at  Nice, 
Minna  was  regarding  the  mad  betrayal  of  her  secret 
in  dazed  and  despairing  terror. 

Two  days  afterwards,  Gerard  paused  in  the  door- 
way at  the  foot  of  the  familiar  staircase  in  the  Tem- 
ple, where  Hugh's  chambers  were  situated,  and 
scanned  the  list  of  names.  The  one  he  sought  was 
still  there.  He  hesitated  for  a  moment,  biting  the 
ends  of  his  moustache.  His  last  meeting  with  Hugh 
had  been  unpleasant.  The  memory  galled  his  pride. 
Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  carry  out  an  alternative 
plan,  and  obtain  knowledge  of  Irene's  whereabouts 
from  Harroway,  or  from  Miss  Beechcroft,  her  aunt. 
His  heart  failed  him.  He  winced  in  anticipation 
before  the  steel-blue  of  Hugh's  eyes  and  the  super- 
cilious tones  of  his  voice.  Then  suddenly  conscious 
of  the  lack  of  moral  courage,  he  threw  angrily  away 
the  stump  of  cigar  he  was  holding  in  his  fingers,  and 
mounted  the  stairs.  The  oak  was  unsported.  He 
knocked;  a  voice  bade  him  enter.  Hugh's  clerk  rose 
from  a  paper-heaped  desk,  and  advanced  to  meet  the 
visitor. 

334 


Idols 

"  Is  Mr.  Colman  in  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  the  clerk.  "  He  hasn't  been  gone 
more  than  half  an  hour." 

"  When  will  he  be  back?" 

' (  Monday  morning,  sir.  This  is  Saturday.  He 
doesn't  often  come  to  chambers  on  Saturday  after- 
noons." 

"  Do  you  know  where  I  can  find  him  ?  "  asked 
Gerard,  growing  impatient. 

The  clerk  did  know.  Lawyer's  clerks  are  certain 
about  most  things. 

"  Mr.  Colman  is  at  home,  at  his  private  residence." 

"Where  is  that  ?" 

"  Are  you  a  client,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  clerk,  with  an 
air  of  importance. 

"No,  confound  you,"  exclaimed  Gerard.  "My 
name  is  Merriam.  Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  it. 
What's  your  master's  address  ?  " 

"Fifty-two  Windsor  Terrace,  Hyde  Park,  sir," 
replied  the  clerk  promptly. 

Gerard  nodded  and  withdrew.  But  for  his  previous 
hesitation,  he  would  have  gone  on  to  Harroway.  As 
his  self-esteem,  however,  was  piqued,  he  hailed  a  cab 
in  the  Strand,  and  continued  his  quest  of  Hugh  in  the 
direction  indicated.  He  leaned  over  the  panels,  his 
gloves  in  his  great  sunburnt  hands,  and  tried  to  dis- 
tract his  thoughts  by  contemplation  of  the  busy  thor- 
oughfares. Their  unchanged  aspect  impressed  him 

335 


Idols 

with  the  returned  wanderer's  illogical  astonishment. 
But  for  his  own  incidcnted  career  during  his  absence 
he  might  have  left  them  only  yesterday.  Life  seemed 
to  have  stood  still  in  London.  He  half  pitied  its 
Stagnation.  He  himself  had  whirled  through  time; 
had  made  a  fortune,  braved  countless  adventures. 
Every  day  had  differed  from  its  predecessor.  He  had 
lived,  while  this  unchanging  scene  had  gone  mechani- 
cally on,  day  after  day,  like  the  reiterated  performance 
of  some  gigantic  spectacle.  The  Strand,  the  Hay- 
market,  Piccadilly  Circus,  held  his  attention,  but  when 
the  cab  turned  off  through  the  dull,  decorous  streets 
between  Regent  Street  and  Oxford  Street,  he  leaned 
back  in  the  cab,  and  his  thoughts  were  again  bent 
anxiously  inwards.  Again  he  felt  the  nervous  reluc- 
tance to  meet  Hugh,  tried  to  formulate  in  his  mind  the 
explanation  and  apology  whose  accomplishment  was 
the  main  object  of  his  visit.  He  had  often  styled 
himself,  boastingly,  a  plain  man.  But  a  plain  man 
is  very  much  like  a  plain  cook,  unable  to  cope  suc- 
cessfully with  anything  beyond  the  commonplace. 
His  errand  dealt  with  extraordinary  issues.  How 
should  he  fulfil  it  ?  And  there  was  Hugh's  fiery 
temper  to  be  reckoned  with,  and  his  command  of 
scathing  speech.  Gerard  had  always  been  just  a  little 
afraid  of  Hugh  in  the  old  days,  and  the  half-acknow- 
ledged habit  of  timorousness  still  survived. 

The  cab  drove  down  Oxford  Street,  past  the  Marble 
336 


Idols 

Arch,  and  turned  up  one  of  the  thoroughfares  leading 
north.  A  quiet  street  to  the  left  contained  Windsor 
Terrace.  Gerard  alighted  at  Number  Fifty-two,  dis- 
missed the  cabman,  and  knocked  at  the  door.  A 
maid-servant  opened.  On  seeing  him,  she  started 
and  looked  at  him  in  some  bewilderment. 

"  Is  Mr.  Colman  in  ?  "  asked  Gerard. 

uNo,  sir." 

u  When  do  you  expect  him  ?  " 

u  Quite  soon,  sir." 

* (  Could  I  come  in  and  wait  ? ' ' 

u  There  is  Mrs.  Colman  upstairs,  sir,"  said  the 
maid,  perplexedly. 

"  Mrs.  Colman!  "  echoed  Gerard. 

The  announcement  confused  him.  He  had  reck- 
oned upon  finding  Hugh  in  bachelor  quarters.  He 
had  left  Mrs.  Colman  in  Nice.  For  a  moment  or 
two  his  lip  curled  at  a  satirical  thought.  Probably 
one  of  Hugh's  indiscretions.  It  was  one  of  those 
houses  from  which  the  general  visitor  was  excluded. 
He  glanced  at  the  servant,  whose  perturbation  became 
evident.  He  drew  out  his  card-case. 

< '  Would  you  tell  your  mistress  that  an  old  friend 
of  Mr.  Colman's  has  very  important  business  with 
him,  and  asks  the  favour  to  be  allowed  to  wait  until  he 
returns  ?  ' ' 

Jane  took  the  card  and  ran  up  the  stairs.  Gerard 
remained  in  the  hall.  Suddenly  he  was  aware  of  the 

22  337 


Idols 

dim  stirrings  of  past  association.  There  was  some- 
thing familiar  in  the  girl's  features  and  voice.  Of 
whom  did  she  remind  him  ?  He  tapped  his  foot  irri- 
tably, seeking  to  get  upon  the  track.  Presently  Jane 
returned,  with  a  flushed  face. 

4t  Will  you  come  up  to  the  drawing-room,  sir  ?  " 
She  preceded  him  up  the  stairs,  held  open  the 
drawing-room  door.  As  she  stood  aside  to  let  him 
pass,  he  again  looked  at  her  sharply.  Certainly  he 
had  seen  her  before.  She  gave  him  no  time  for 
enquiries,  for  as  soon  as  he  had  entered,  she  quickly 
closed  the  door  and  disappeared.  Gerard  walked 
across  the  tastefully  furnished  room,  whose  arrange- 
ments bore  evidence  of  the  hand  of  a  refined  woman. 
As  he  glanced  round  him,  his  eye  fell  upon  a  photo- 
graph of  Irene  in  a  silver  frame.  He  crossed  to  the 
table  on  which  it  was,  examined  it  closely.  It  was 
evidently  quite  recent.  She  had  grown  older,  he 
thought ;  her  face,  spiritualised.  He  felt  vaguely 
disappointed.  The  portrait  did  not  suggest  the  woman 
crushed  by  contumely  whose  face  would  grow  radiant 
at  the  news  he  was  bringing  her.  For  lately  he  had 
begun  to  regard  himself  somewhat  as  her  deliverer. 
Her  aspect  of  serenity  gave  him  apprehensive  qualms. 
On  the  same  table  was  a  photograph  of  Hugh,  proud, 
with  his  head  thrown  back,  looking  somewhat  scorn- 
fully at  the  beholder.  In  the  centre,  hidden  from  the 
first  casual  glance  by  a  vase  with  flowers,  was  the 

33» 


Idols 

photograph  of  a  pretty  two-year-old  boy.  A  dawning 
uneasiness,  too  dim  as  yet  for  suspicion,  had  just 
arisen  in  his  mind,  when,  turning  away  from  the 
table,  he  noticed  upon  the  mantelpiece  two  richly 
chased  silver  candlesticks,  which  were  strikingly 
familiar.  They  used  to  be  Irene's  most  cherished 
possessions,  heirlooms  in  her  family.  Had  she  given 
them  to  Hugh  ?  Quickly  he  looked  about  the  room. 
Against  the  wall  hung  a  signed  Seymour  Haden  that 
had  belonged  to  his  wife.  What  did  it  mean  ?  Be- 
neath stood  a  little  cane  work-basket.  Scarcely  aware 
of  his  purpose,  he  turned  over  the  silks  and  spools. 
A  fragment  of  paper  bore  a  pencilled  set  of  directions 
for  some  fancy  stitch.  It  was  in  Irene's  handwriting. 
Gerard  put  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  drew  it  away 
moist.  Some  books  were  lying  on  a  table.  He 
strode  impetuously  thither.  The  top  one  was  u  The 
New  Atlantis,  by  Hugh  Colman."  Gerard  took  it 
up.  On  the  fly-leaf  was  written,  "  Irene,  from 
Hugh."  Irene,  Irene  everywhere. 
-  Then  swiftly  the  lost  association  connected  with 
the  servant  found  its  place  in  his  brain.  She  was  one 
of  their  Sunnington  servants.  Her  name  returned  to 
his  memory — Jane,  a  favourite  of  Irene's.  With  a 
sudden  exclamation  of  amazement,  foreboding  and 
anger,  he  rushed  to  the  table  with  the  photographs, 
and  seeing  that  of  the  boy,  scanned  it  intently. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened  and  Irene  herself 
339 


Idols 

entered  the  room.  She  was  very  calm,  though  pale, 
•*nd  she  looked  straight  into  his  eyes.  For  a  moment 
or  two  they  regarded  one  another  in  silence,  Gerard, 
with  his  back  to  the  light  of  the  window,  still  holding 
the  photograph. 

44  How  do  you  come  to  be  in  this  house  ?  "  he  said, 
somewhat  hoarsely. 

44  It  is  my  own,"  she  answered  steadily.  44Minc 
and  rny  husband 

44  And  this 

44  Is  our  son,"  said  Irene. 

He  looked  at  her,  stupefied  by  anger  and  lacerated 
vanity.  The  photograph  fell  from  his  fingers  on  to 
the  carpet. 

44  You  mean  that  he  is  your — protector,"   he  said. 

Irene's  eyes  flashed  dangerously. 

44  I  don't  know  what  your  object  in  coming  here 
I  thought  it  was  important  business.  I  came 
down  to  spare  my  husband  the  possible  pain  of  an 
interview.  It  seems  that  you  have  come  to  insult  me. 
Hugh  is  my  lawful  husband.  We  were  married  three 
years  ago.  If  your  object  was  to  learn  this,  you  have 
attained  it." 

She  spoke  haughtily,  drawing  herself  up  in  all  her 
dignity.  His  presence  offended  her.  Feminine  deli- 
cacies rose  in  hot  revolt  within  her.  Yet  she  could 
not  repress  an  almost  savage  thrill  at  the  contrast  be- 
tween him  and  the  man  who  was  now  her  husband. 

340 


Idols 

How  had  she  ever  stupefied  herself  into  the  delusion 
that  she  loved  him  ?  He  looked  coarse  and  common- 
place. A  movement  of  his  neck  to  free  itself  from 
pressure  of  the  collar  revealed  a  small  mole,  horribly 
familiar  to  her.  She  shuddered  in  all  her  being.  Yet 
she  faced  him  bravely. 

u  If  that  is  all,"  she  added,  "  we  can  spare  each 
other  the  discomfort  of  further  conversation." 

"  But  it  isn't  all,  Irene,"  he  burst  out,  with  gen- 
uine spirit.  u  I  swear  insult  was  the  last  thing  in  my 
thoughts.  I  never  knew  of  this.  I  came  to  get  your 
address  from  Colman — to  ask  your  forgiveness.  But 
I  don't  understand.  Tell  me.  Are  you  really  his 
wife?" 

(i  I  have  already  said  so,"  replied  Irene.  "  If  you 
are  come  to  ask  my  forgiveness  for  your  action  towards 
me,  I  am  prepared  to  grant  it.  But — I  am  Hugh's 
wife." 

u  And  seeing  you  his  wife,  I  don't  understand. 
Unless  I  have  been  made  an  utter  fool  of  a  second 
time  by  a  woman." 

An  ugly  expression  passed  across  his  face.  She 
looked  so  calm,  self-contained;  her  whole  attitude 
suggested  aloofness.  He  began  to  feel  his  old  discom- 
fort in  her  presence,  accentuated  by  the  exasperating 
position  in  which  he  found  himself.  He  cursed  the 
day  that  turned  his  steps  to  Minna  Hart.  Had  this 
been  her  revenge — this  out  and  out  mockery  ? 


Idols 

14  I  owe  you  an  apology,"  he  said  grimly.  l(  I  left 
a  woman  calling  herself  Mrs.  Colman  in  Nice — Minna 
Hart.  She  informed  me  that  she  had  been  secretly 
married  to  Colman.  That  he  had  spent  the  night  of 
the  murder  with  her.  I  came  straight  from  Nice  here 
to  tell  you  of  my  remorse  and  to  offer  you  reparation. 
It  seems  she  was  lying.  I  humbly  apologise." 

He  laughed  the  short  derisive  laugh  of  indignation, 
and  took  three  or  four  short  impatient  paces  to  and 
fro.  Irene's  eyes  flashed  a  second  time. 

44  You  have  been  fooled,"  she  said.  4<  She  cannot 
be  his  wife,  since  I  am." 

He  turned  round  upon  her  suddenly. 

44  Perhaps  it's  you  that  have  been  fooled." 

44  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

44  Perhaps  her  story  is  true,  and  I  may  still  have 
the  pleasure  of  asking  for  your  pardon.  The  registers 
in  Somerset  House  will  tell  me." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  accuse  my  husband  of  marrying 
me  while  his  first  wife  was  alive  ?  I  would  not  be- 
lieve a  hundred  registers!  " 

44  Either  he  or  she  must  be  lying,"  said  Gerard. 

"She  is  the  liar!"  cried  Irene,  thrilled  with  the 
magnificence  of  her  faith.  *4  I  suppose  she  told  it  you 
in  the  same  calm  frame  of  mind  as  when  I  last  saw 
her." 

It  was  Irene's  one  ungenerosity.  But  a  woman  is 
not  apt  to  choose  her  weapons  when  the  man  she 

342 


Idols 

loves  is  slandered  by  another  woman.  Primitive  in- 
stincts get  beyond  control.  But  her  words  were  an 
illumination  to  Gerard. 

"  That  very  evening  she  came  to  tell  us  her  secret." 

"  I  will  never  believe  it.  And  I  would  sooner  die 
than  insult  him  by  asking.  There  is  no  need  for  us 
to  talk  further.  I  appreciate  your  motive  in  coming. ' ' 

Her  words  were  a  signal  of  dismissal.  She  moved 
towards  the  bell.  But  quick  steps  were  heard  on  the 
stairs,  and  in  a  moment  Hugh  entered  the  room.  He 
stood  for  a  second  transfixed  with  amazement  at  the 
sight  of  Gerard.  Then  quickly  recovered  himself. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  asked  haughtily. 

He  crossed  the  room,  and  stood  by  Irene's  side, 
hand  on  hips,  looking  very  fiercely  at  his  enemy. 
Involuntarily  Irene  slid  her  hand  beneath  his  arm. 
And  so  the  two  confronted  Gerard.  A  spasm  of  the 
old  jealous  envy  passed  through  his  heart.  If  he  had 
been  a  primaeval  savage  he  would  have  leaped  at 
Hugh's  throat. 

"  I  have  come  from  the  Mrs.  Colman  who  resides 
at  Nice,"  he  replied. 

Hugh's  heart  gave  a  great  throb.  For  a  moment 
the  ground  seemed  to  be  slipping  from  under  his  feet. 
He  collected  himself  quickly. 

"  Explain  yourself,"  he  said. 

"  I  have  lately  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss 
Minna  Hart  at  Nice.  She  confessed  to  a  secret  mar- 

343 


Idols 

riagc  with  you,  and  entered  upon  such  explanations  as 
proved  to  me  how  baseless  were  my  suspicions  of — 
the  present  Mrs.  Colman." 

<(  And  you  came  to  take  your  revenge.  It  is  worthy 
of  you."' 

"  Mrs.  Colman  will  bear  me  out  when  I  say  that  I 
came  with  other  motives.  Your  second  marriage  was 
an  entire  surprise  to  me.  As  great  a  one  as  the  first." 

"  But    the    girl   was    lying    to   you — duping   you. 
Can't   you    understand?"    cried    Irene,    breat 
looking   from   one   man   to  the   other,  waiting  in  an 
agony  of  mystification  for  Hugh's  indignant  denial. 

Hugh  set  his  teeth  and  strode  up  to  Gerard,  and 
looked  him  close  in  the  eyes. 

"  Damn  you  !  "  he  said,  "  couldn't  you  have  spared 
us  thi 

"  Then  it  is  true  ?  "  cried  Irene,  aghast.  (t  That 
that  girl  is  your  wife — and  I  am  not  ?  " 

Hugh  turned  quickly  from  Gerard,  and  moved  a 
pace  nearer  to  her,  and  said,  with  a  certain  sad  statcli- 
ness: 

"  Yes,  dear,  it  is  quite  true." 

She  stood  for  a  moment  or  two  white  and  trembling, 
as  if  stricken  by  a  mortal  malady.  There  was  a  dead 
silence.  She  looked  at  Hugh  fixedly.  Then  she 
turned  slowly  and  walked  towards  the  door. 

Gerard  was  frightened.  The  flabby  conscience 
was  wrung.  This  was  the  second  time  he  had  stabbed 

344 


Idols 

her  to  the  heart.  For  the  moment  he  forgot  every- 
thing save  her  innocence  and  her  anguish.  He  over- 
took her  in  two  or  three  sudden  strides. 

u  For  God's  sake,  Irene — Pm  an  infernal  black- 
guard— forgive  me." 

But,  her  back  towards  him,  she  waved  him  away, 
with  outstretched  hand,  and  in  a  few  seconds  had  left 
the  room. 

<c  Now,  we  two,"  said  Hugh,  drawing  himself  up. 
* '  What  are  your  intentions  ? ' ' 

( (  What  intentions  can  I  have  ? ' '  replied  Gerard, 
sullenly.  u  You  heard  what  I  just  said  to  Irene." 

Hugh  turned  away  with  a  gesture  of  helplessness, 
and  catching  sight  of  the  boy's  photograph  lying  on 
the  floor  where  Gerard  had  dropped  it,  he  stooped 
mechanically  and  picked  it  up. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go,"  he  said,  wearily, 
fingering  the  frame  ;  "  and  if  you  have  anything  of 
the  man  left  in  you,  you  will  leave  her  alone,  and 
hold  your  tongue  about  all  this." 

"I  have  no  object  in  making  it  public,"  replied 
Gerard. 

"Very  well,"  said  Hugh,  looking  at  the  boy's 
portrait. 

Gerard  left  the  house,  and  drew  a  great  breath  on 
reaching  the  open  air.  He  had  made  a  fool  of  him- 
self again.  He  had  taken  his  revenge;  had  eaten  the 
food  of  the  humble.  He  wished,  in  a  futile  way,  that 

345 


Idols 

he  had  not  acted  on  Minna  Hart's  confession.  His 
Quixotic  impulses  had  led  him  to  ignominious  upheaval 
among  the  sheep.  Fate  was  serving  him  shabbily. 
He  walked  to  the  Marble  Arch  and  idly  entered  the 
Park.  His  head  was  full  of  the  past  interview. 
Hugh  Colman's  attitude  had  produced  an  irritating 
sense  of  discomfort.  He  had  attacked  him  in  the 
anticipation  of  unmasking  a  villain.  He  had  un- 
masked him,  and  found  the  same  proud,  always  bitterly 
envied  man.  Furthermore,  he  had  found  himself  the 
villain. 

For  a  hundred  yards  he  tried  to  sentimentalise  over 
his  final  and  irrevocable  loss  of  Irene.  But  he  was 
honest  enough  to  abandon  the  attempt.  He  called 
himself  a  fool  for  his  lovesick  pains;  consoled  him- 
self with  the  assurance  that  she  never  was  and  never 
could  be  his  style.  Yet  he  felt  sick  of  life,  sick  of 
his  blundering  and  ill-used  self.  He  walked  on 
aimlessly. 

At  last  he  found  himself  in  the  Broad  Walk  of 
Kensington  Gardens.  It  came  on  to  rain  from  a 
leaden  March  sky.  He  hailed  a  cab,  entered  it  and 
closed  the  panels. 

<c  Where  to,  sir  ?  "  asked  the  driver,  through  the 
trap-door  in  the  roof. 

Gerard  did  not  know.  He  mentioned  his  club. 
The  cab  started.  The  sudden  decision  brought  his 
future  plans  before  his  mind.  Somehow  England 

346 


Idols 

seemed  a  cold,  tame,  unattractive  place.  His  visions 
of  a  country  estate  in  Norfolk  lost  their  charm.  He 
wished  he  had  never  left  Africa. 

"  I'll  soon  clear  out  of  this  beastly  country  again,'* 
he  said  to  himself. 


CHAPTER   XX\ 

HUGH  put  the  boy's  photograph  with  mechanical 
precision  in  its  accustomed  place,  then  turned  away 
and  threw  himself  into  the  nearest  chair  and  rested  hi* 
head  on  his  hand.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  his  heart 
seemed  to  fail  him.  It  was  stone-cold  with  fear,  the 
horrible  fear,  of  which  premonitions  had  haunted  him, 
off  and  on,  during  the  three  years  of  his  great  happi- 
ness, lest  this  crime  which  he  had  committed  should 
cause  him  to  forfeit  Irene's  love. 

He  had  entered  the  house  buoyant  with  hope. 
That  morning  he  had  received  the  offer  of  an  appoint- 
ment which  was  generally  held  to  be  the  stepping-stone 
to  the  silk  of  the  Queen's  Counsel.  He  had  rushed 
up  the  stairs,  as  eager  as  a  boy,  to  tell  Irene  his  news, 
and  to  see  the  quick  flush  of  pleasure  on  her  cheek. 
So  impetuous  had  been  his  entrance  that  Jane,  who 
had  been  awaiting  his  arrival  with  a  warning  word,  had 
only  reached  the  foot  of  the  stairs  when  he  opened  the 
drawing-room  door.  And  then  the  thunderbolt  had 
fallen.  He  was  too  dazed  as  yet  to  speculate  on  the 
motives  of  Minna's  astonishing  revelation  to  Gerard. 
The  bare  fact  was  sufficient.  Irene  knew  the  misei 

34* 


Idols 

able  secret.  The  anguish  in  her  eyes  struck  the  whole 
passionate  man  faint  and  helpless. 

Suddenly  he  roused  himself  with  a  start,  walked 
with  a  firm  fast  stride  through  the  open  door,  up  the 
stairs  and  into  Irene's  bedroom.  As  he  expected,  she 
was  there,  on  the  bed,  her  face  hidden  in  the  pillows. 
Through  the  open  window,  behind  the  dressing-table, 
came  the  raw,  damp  air.  She  struggled  to  her  feet 
and  held  out  a  deprecating  hand  as  he  advanced  to  her. 

"  Irene !"  he  said.  His  heart  nearly  broke  over 
the  word. 

u  Leave  me  alone  a  little,  Hugh,"  she  said  quietly. 
u  I  will  speak  with  you  presently.  I  must  think." 

"  Hear  my  story  first,  Irene,  and  that  will  aid  the 
judgment  you  will  pass  upon  me." 

"I  can't  judge  you,"  she  replied.  "  There  are 
feelings  independent  of  intellectual  judgment." 

"  But  hear  me,"  he  pleaded. 

"  I  can  guess  it  all,"  she  said. 

"  I  shall  have  to  tell  it  soon.  Why  not  now  ? 
You  can't  guess  all.  Every  minute's  delay  is  widen- 
ing the  gulf  between  us,  dear." 

"  It  seems  to  be  infinitely  wide  already,"  she  an- 
swered. "Why  did  you  deceive  me,  Hugh?  1 
trusted  you  so " 

"  Because  I  loved  you." 

"  Love  is  perfect  trust,"  she  said. 

"It  is  also  protection.     You  committed  a  crime 

349 


Idols 

punishable  at   law  for  my  sake.      I   did  the  same  for 
yours." 

i(  Do  you  suppose  I  would  have  let  anything  stand 
in  the  way  of  our  union  ?  "  she  said. 

I  knew  that  you  would  not,  dear.  But  I  also 
knew  that  such  unions  are  hard  for  the  woman.  I 
wanted  to  lighten  your  lot,  not  make  it  heavier." 

She  shook  her  head,  despairingly  unconvinced.  A 
word  of  anger,  a  note  of  passion,  would  have  drawn 
from  him  passionate  entreaties.  Her  self-contained 
and  hopeless  calm  threw  him  back,  as  it  were,  upon 
himself. 

"Well.      Perhaps  you   had   better  tell    me    now., 
Not  here.     It  is  cold." 

She  shivered,  glanced  at  the  window,  and  for  the 
first  time  noticed  that  it  was  open. 

"  My  poor  child!" 

He  lowered  the  sash  quickly,  and  caught  up  a  br 
shawl  that  lay  over  the  back  of  a  couch,  and  held   it 
ready  to  slip  round   her  shoulders.      But  she  refused 
.tying  that  she  would  be  warm  downsta 

<k  I  have  carried  you  in  it  before  now,  Renic,"  he 
said.  u  The  first  time — after  the  boy  was  born." 

"  That  was  long  ago — in  a  different  state  of  c 
encc.    Oh,  Hugh,  how  could  you  live  a  lie  like  this 
omc  and  I  will  tell  you,"  he  said. 

They  went   downstairs   to   the    library.      Jane  me 
them  with   enquiries  as   to   the    lunch  that   had  beer 

350 


jr    me 

brown 


Idols 

awaiting  Hugh's  return.      Their  eyes  questioned  one 
another. 

"  You  can  clear  it  away,  Jane,"  he  said. 

Irene  allowed  him  to  perform  his  usual  little  cour- 
tesies of  tenderness  in  making  her  comfortable  before 
the  fire,  and  thanked  him  in  the  even  voice  that  smote 
him  deeper  than  anger  or  fierce  reproach.  He  stood 
beside  her,  hands  on  hips,  his  customary  attitude. 

'  (  Shall  I  begin  from  the  beginning  ?  Well,  it  is 
the  usual  thing.  Adam  set  the  example,  stereotyped 
the  excuse.  The  woman  tempted  me.  A  man  is  a 
threadbare  creature  when  you  hold  him  up  to  the  light. 
Or  to  put  things  another  way :  I  loved  a  star — the 
better  part  of  me;  the  lower  part  plucked  the  first 
wayside  flower  to  hand " 

He  broke  off,  paced  impatiently  the  verge  of  carpet 
adjoining  the  polished  strip  of  floor  that  ran  from  the 
doorway  to  the  fireplace  wall. 

<(  I  can't  talk  of  it  to  you.  It  is  horrible.  I  loved 
you  all  the  time,  remember.  I  behaved  like  a  black- 
guard to  her.  I  don't  want  to  justify  myself " 

He  paused,  as  if  expecting  her  to  reply,  but  she 
looked  steadfastly  at  the  fire  and  gave  no  sign  of  heed- 
ing. The  lines  had  deepened  in  her  face,  the  youth 
had  gone  out  of  it.  Her  age  was  two  and  thirty.  She 
looked  five  years  older. 

"  I  am  going  into  rhodomontades, "   he  said. 
will  just  tell  you  the  facts." 


Idols 

He  began  at  his  first  meeting  with  Minna,  described 
their  courtship,  marriage,  quarrel,  the  whole  miserable 
story  of  their  lives.  He  sought  neither  to  spare 
himself  nor  to  paint  himself  in  Mephistophelian 
colours.  Too  proud  to  plead  extenuation,  he  forced 
himself  to  state  facts  baldly.  A  note  of  pleading 
in  his  voice  might  have  touched  the  tenderer  chords 
in  Irene,  but  his  tale  left  her  cold,  angered,  her 
heart  unconvinced.  When  he  had  finished  he  sat 
down  in  the  chair  opposite  her,  and  there  was  a 
long  silence. 

"  Do  you  still  reproach  me  so  bitterly  for  deceiving 
you  ?  "  he  asked  at  length. 

She  looked  round  at  him  wearily.  She  had  not 
spoken  a  word  since  he  had  begun  his  tale. 

41  I  can't  reproach  you  for  being  different  from  what 
I  thought  you.  You  acted  well,  my  reason  tells  me, 
according  to  your  lights,  but — I  thought  your  lights 
were  different.  At  first  I  could  not  conceive  how 
you  left  me  in  ignorance.  I  need  not  say  that  if  you 
had  told  me  the  woman  was  your  wife,  I  should  not 
have  questioned  you  further." 

44  The  words  were  on  my  lips,"  he  said,  leaning 
forward,  with  anxious,  earnest  face.  44  You  checked 
them — the  evening  that  you  told  me  of  your  love. 
Do  you  remember  ? ' ' 

44  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said.  Then,  after  a 
pause,  resuming  the  mid-thread  of  her  last  remark: 

352 


Idols 

c  c  But  I  can  understand  now  from  what  you  have  told 
me  of  yourself.  No,  I  don't  reproach  you." 

He  threw  himself,  in  an  outburst  of  gratitude,  on 
his  knees  beside  her  chair,  and  seized  her  hand. 

11  God  bless  you,  Renie.      I  still  have  your  love." 

She  withdrew  her  hand  gently. 

u  That  is  what  I  don't  know,  Hugh.  Some  you 
must  have,  for  the  boy's  sake.  Some  because  of  your 
tenderness  and  devotion  to  me.  But  what  I  gave  you 
this  morning  when  you  kissed  the  boy  and  myself  be- 
fore you  started — seems  to  have  gone  out  of  me ' ' 

u  But,  Irene,  my  beloved,"  he  urged,  with  the 
pathos  of  ineptitude,  "  I  did  it  for  the  best — for  the 
sake  of  your  name  and  happiness — for  the  sake  of 
the  children  that  might  be — the  danger  seemed  utterly 
remote — it  seemed  only  taking  upon  myself  the  burden 
of  a  crime — I  never  breathed  to  you  a  word  of  the 
love  and  longing  that  tortured  me  until  you  showed 
me  that  you  loved  me.  And  then  I  took  this  step — 
the  only  dishonourable  thing  I  have  done  in  my  life 
that  my  conscience  approved  of.  My  motives  were 
pure.  It  was  for  your  happiness." 

"  I  know,"  she  sighed.  "  I  am  not  an  irrational 
woman.  It  was  not  the  selfish  motive  of  having  me 
yours.  My  reason  approves  you.  But  something 
has  stopped  in  my  heart — I  don't  know  what  it  is  or 
why  it  is." 

"  Time  will  set  it  on  its  old  motion  again,"  he  said. 
23  353 


Idols 

"  No,  I  think  not.  I  had  the  trust  in  you  that  a 
more  religious  woman  has  in  God.  Now  it  has 
gone." 

"  But  you  tell  me  your  reason  approves,"  insisted 
poor  Hugh. 

"  Faith  is  on  a  different  plane  from  reason.  I  am 
hurting  you.  It  goes  to  my  heart  to  do  it.  But  I 
can't  pretend." 

Hugh  rose,  and,  stooping  over  her,  kissed  her  fore- 
head. 

"  I  will  leave  you  to  yourself  to-day,  if  you  wish 

44  You  would  be  doing  me  a  kindness,  Hugh,"  she 
replied. 

He  left  her,  and  betook  himself  to  the  library  of  his 
club,  where,  surrounding  himself  with  books  and 
sheets  of  manuscript,  he  made  a  pretence  of  work  a 

Ver  against  intrusive  acquaintances, 
ene  went  upstairs  to  the  nursery,  and,  dismissing 
the  nursemaid,  took  the  boy  on  her  lap,  and  drew  her 
arm*  tightly  round  him.  The  tears  came  from  an 
overfull  heart  and  trickled  down  upon  the  chubby 
cheek.  He  disengaged  himself  and  looked  her  in  the 
face,  and  then,  reminiscent  of  a  lugubrious  story  that 
Susan  had  been  telling  him : 

14  Is  daddy  dead  ?  "  he  asked  with  cheerful  sym- 
pathy. 

"No,  darling.      He " 

354 


t 


idols 

She  could  not  say  more.    A  lump  rose  in  her  throat. 

( '  Then  why  are  you  crying,  mummy  ?  Have  you 
been  naughty?  " 

She  laughed,  caught  him  to  her  breast  again. 

"  We  are  all  miserable  sinners,  Hughie,  save  you. 
And  you  are  the  dearest  mother's  angel  that  ever 
lived." 

She  remained  with  him  for  the  rest  of  the  day, 
seeking  material  distraction  in  his  childish  interests 
and  needs,  and  finding  the  crushed  woman's  solace  in 
his  near  and  happy  presence.  Yet  the  beloved  sight 
of  him  brought  pain.  He  was  nameless,  a  child  of 
Hagar.  Already  his  future  years  had  been  weighted 
with  his  mother's  public  dishonour.  Now,  if  this 
thing  were  noised  abroad,  the  burden  of  illegitimacy 
was  added.  The  maternal  instinct  rose,  revolted,  and 
raised  up  resentment  against  Hugh. 

In  the  evening  she  put  the  boy  to  bed  and  sat  by 
him  as  he  slept.  What  would  be  the  outcome  of  it 
all  ?  She  rested  her  head  upon  the  edge  of  the  pillow, 
and  tried  to  think.  In  the  first  blank  agony  of  that 
afternoon,  there  had  come  into  her  head  a  wild  idea  of 
leaving  Hugh,  and  living  her  broken  life  in  solitude. 
Perhaps  the  suggestion  had  been  too  fantastic  to  be 
called  an  idea.  She  had  been  visited  by  obscured 
gleams  of  visions,  in  which  she  had  seen  herself  now 
flying  on  foot  from  the  house,  now  sitting  at  a  win- 
dow in  a  sea-coast  cottage,  with  the  boy  at  her  side. 

355 


Idc 

Afterwards  she  recognised  that  these  were  but  pictures 
of  a  brain  momentarily  disordered.  Even  if  her  own 
heart  did  not  bid  her  pity  Hugh,  the  boy  was  a  sacred 
bond  between  them,  not  to  be  broken  by  any  change 
in  their  outer  lives.  Whatever  happened,  they  would 
continue  to  live  as  man  and  wife  before  the  world, 
ving  on  the  lie.  To  her  transparent  nature  deceit 
was  abhorrent.  She  had  the  blemish  of  her  qualities. 

And   her   love  for   Hugh  ?     She  strained  her  spir- 
itual vision,  saw  things  distortedly,  out  of  perspective. 
The  woman  of  flesh  and  blood  also  suffered.     A  c 
tain  grandeur  of  cold  and  cruel  loveliness  had  invo 
her  conception  of  her  of  the  ophidian   eyes,  and  had 

;cd  in  her  bosom,  not  jealousy,  but  a  feminine  thrill 
of  triumph.  Far  different  were  her  feelings  with 
reference  to  Minna.  How  could  the  high-souled  p 
tleman  have  fallen  a  victim  to  the  tawdry  wiles  of  one 
so  commonplace  and  vulgar  ?  The  intrigue  debased 
him  in  her  eyes.  It  quenched  in  her  image  of  him 
that  suffused  radiance  of  idealism  and  spirituality 
which  had  always  existed.  What  she  had  said 
tnu.  The  divinity  in  which  she  had  trusted  had 
faded  into  nothingness.  Her  soul  put  forth  its  hands, 
for  support,  and  found  none;  it  was  groping  in  dark- 
ness. 

The  boy  stirred  in  his  sleep.  She  slid  one  hand 
beneath  the  bed-clothes  and  soothed  him.  The  other 
touched  the  little  crumpled  hand,  that  gradually  closed 

356 


Idols 

round  her  finger.  The  action  seemed  symbolical.  A 
passionate  tumult  of  maternal  emotion  swelled  her 
heart.  The  tears  started  again  to  her  eyes.  For  a 
long  time  she  sat,  quite  still,  absorbed  as  it  were  in 
the  soul  of  the  sleeping  child. 

Something  strange  had  taken  place.  She  felt  the 
relief  of  returning  strength.  She  rose,  kissed  the 
breath  of  the  parted,  innocent  lips,  and  retired  to  her 
own  room.  When  Hugh,  an  hour  afterwards,  came 
home,  he  entered  noiselessly  and  advanced  a  pace  or 
two  on  tip-toe.  Her  placid,  regular  breathing  told 
him  that  she  slept.  He  withdrew  as  gently  as  he  had 
entered,  and  went  to  bed. 

The  next  day  was  Sunday.  They  met  at  break- 
fast. She  approached  him,  and  offered  her  cheek  to 
his  kiss. 

"  Only  that,  Irene  ?  "  he  asked,  with  his  hand  on 
her  shoulder. 

"  I  shall  always  give  you  all  that  is  in  me  to  give," 
she  replied.  "  You  must  try  to  be  content." 

He  turned  away  sorrowfully,  and  sat  down  to  table. 
Presently  he  told  her  how  he  had  entered  her  room 
last  night,  and  found  her  sleeping.  It  had  made  him 
happier. 

"  I  was  with  Hughie  all  day,'*  she  explained,  with 
feminine  suppression  of  connective  links. 

"  He  is  a  comfort  to  you  ? ' ' 

"  A  new  comfort,"   she  said. 
357 


Idols 

The  day  passed  tolerably  enough,  and  the  next  and 
the  next.  Their  outer  life  remained  unchanged. 
Yet  it  was  the  simulacrum  of  the  old.  She  met  him 
with  gentle  kindness,  uttering  no  word  of  reproach, 
and  manifesting  a  tender  interest  in  his  concerns  and 
comforts.  But  the  unassayable  essence  of  their  union 
had  gone.  She  had  grown  reserved,  self-contained. 
Hugh  bowed  his  head  beneath  his  punishment.  He 
recognised  the  futility  of  pleading.  Once  more  she 
took  her  place  among  the  cold  stars,  hopelessly  remote. 
The  stamp  of  finality  seemed  impressed  upon  their 
relations.  And  the  hunger  for  that  which  could  never 
be  came  into  his  eyes. 

They  rarely  spoke  of  the  disintegrating  cause. 
Once  she  asked  him  whether  he  feared  public  expos- 
ure. He  reassured  her.  The  man  would  be  a  devil 
if  he  blabbed  such  a  secret  abroad,  considering  the 
awful  peril  in  which  he  would  place  her.  The  other 
would  keep  silent  for  her  own  sake.  Why  she  had 
confided  in  Gerard  was  a  mystery. 

<c  You  must  seek  the  motive  in  love  or  hate,"  said 
Irene. 

"  Hate,  then/' 

(<  I  would  not  be  too  sure,"  said  Irene,  who  had 
tasted  the  bitter  fruit  of  knowledge.  "  A  woman 
can  have  strange  jealousies." 

"  You  need  not  fear,"   he  said. 

But  her  words  gave  poignancy  to  gnawing  misgiv- 
358 


Idols 

ings.  He  had  counted  so  absolutely  on  Minna's 
silence.  Now,  who  could  tell  of  what  vindictive 
folly  she  was  capable  ? 

"  My  mind  is  easy,  Hugh,"  she  replied.  "  I 
have  faith  in  my  destiny." 

He  looked  enquiringly.  "  As  the  boy's  mother," 
she  explained. 

So  things  went  on  until  one  evening,  when,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  long-standing  invitation,  the  Harroways 
dined  with  them.  Harroway  took  Hugh  into  a  cor- 
ner before  dinner.  His  face  was  beaming. 

"  I  have  seen  Merriam.  He  has  told  me.  I  want 
to  fling  myself  on  my  knees  before  your  wife.  Be- 
lieve me,  I  have  all  along  had  terrible  doubts — ask 
Selina.  It  makes  me  feel  young  again." 

u  What  did  he  tell  you?  "   asked  Hugh,  anxiously. 

u  Simply  that  he  had  discovered  his  error.  He 
thought  I  ought  to  know.  I'm  glad  I'm  not  in  his 
shoes.  I'd  shoot  myself — by  George,  I  would, 
sir!" 

"  He  told  you  nothing  about  the  source  of  his  infor- 
mation? " 

"  No,  my  dear  boy.  Of  course  not.  Oh,  he's 
straight  enough,  in  his  way,  is  Gerard.  He's  pretty 
miserable  about  it.  He's  off  to  California  next  week 
— to  buy  a  ranch  and  settle  down,  he  says.  So  your 
paths  won't  cross  again.  I  was  to  give  you  that 
message. ' ' 

359 


Idols 

Hugh  felt  relieved.  Gerard's  presence  in  London 
caused  him  an  oppression  which  he  had  not  been  able 
to  shake  off. 

44  I  am  glad  we  are  clear  in  the  eyes  of  you  two,  at 
last/'  he  said. 

"  You  have  always  been  clear  in  our  hearts,  my 
dear  Hugh,"  said  the  old  solicitor. 

But  in  spite  of  Hugh's  relief,  and  that  of  Irene, 
who  had  been  wept  and  smiled  over  by  Selina  up- 
stairs, the  dinner  had  not  the  usual  success  of  their 
little  reunions.  Irene  looked  tired.  Hugh's  efforts 
at  entertainment  lacked  spontaneity.  Both  exerted 
themselves,  and  were  conscious  of  exertion.  After 
the  guests  had  gone,  they  sat  a  while  together  in  the 
drawing-room. 

I    suppose    Mrs.     Harroway    told    yo  said 

Hugh. 

14  Yes.  It's  the  best  thing  that  can  happen  to  us," 
she  answered.  He  assented  gloomily.  She  stole  a 
tful  glance  at  him,  and  pitied  him  for  his  down- 
fall.  She  longed  as  yearningly  as  he  for  the  dead 
day's  departed  grace.  But  it  could  never  come  back. 
Forgiveness  implies  raising  or  lowering  of  respective 
planes.  Where  one  forgives,  one  cannot  worship. 
Neither  can  one  feel  outside  the  limit  imposed  by 
temperament.  It  was  not  given  to  her  to  love  frail 
mortality  with  the  sacred  fire.  Her  mother,  father, 
the  old  eidolon  of  Gerard  she  had  worshipped.  Hugh 


Idols 

she  had  loved  with  a  newly-awakened  elemental  pas- 
sion, but  had  worshipped  him  also.  The  whole  devo- 
tion would  never  return.  Her  heart  was  moved  by 
the  pity  of  it.  And  yet  what  could  she  do?  In  her 
heart  she  was  grateful  to  him  for  his  tender  courtesy, 
and  his  perception  of  her  soul's  workings.  It  made 
their  common  life  tolerable,  by  giving  her  breathing 
space,  time  to  realise  herself,  and  once  more  to  recon- 
struct a  new  life  upon  the  ruins  of  an  old  one. 

To  cheer  him,  she  gave  him  an  account  of  her 
day's  doings,  of  the  day's  oddities  and  signs  of  pro- 
gress in  the  boy.  Demanded  his  news,  touched  on 
the  new  appointment.  For  he  had  come  home  late, 
just  in  time  to  dress  for  dinner,  and  they  had  not  seen 
each  other  alone  since  the  morning.  Then  she  rose 
and  bade  him  good  night. 

"  Good  night.      God  bless  you,"   he  said. 

For  some  moments  he  sat  in  a  brown  study,  medi- 
tating over  the  change  that  a  few  days  had  wrought  in 
his  paradise.  The  haughtiness  of  spirit  that  had  ena- 
bled him  all  his  life  long  to  face  his  own  misdeeds  and 
to  scorn  their  consequences,  was  crushed.  Irene  had 
never  been  so  unutterably  dear.  He  felt  humbly 
grateful  for  her  kindness. 

He  rose  with  a  sigh,  stretched  himself,  and  after 
turning  out  the  lights  in  the  drawing-room,  went 
downstairs  to  the  library,  intending  to  do  an  hour's 
work  before  going  to  bed.  He  lit  a  cigarette,  sat 

361 


Idols 

down,  and  opened  the  brief-bag  that  he  had  brought 
home.  With  a  handful  of  documents,  he  drew  out  an 
unopened  evening  paper.  He  arrayed  the  documents 
before  him,  then  unfolded  the  newspaper,  and  lean- 
ing back  in  his  chair  glanced  idly  up  and  down  the 
columns.  Suddenly  his  eye  became  riveted  to  the 
page,  his  face  grew  white,  and  then  he  fell  forward, 
elbows  on  table,  and  sat  staring  in  front  of  him,  digging 
his  nails  into  his  cheeks. 

His  back  was  to  the  door.  He  was  not  conscious 
that  Irene,  in  dressing-gown  and  with  loose  hair,  had 
entered  the  room. 

"  Did  I  leave  my  book  down  here?  "  she  asked, 
mentioning  a  new  novel. 

The  sound  of  her  voice  startled  him.  He  turned 
round,  dazed.  She  came  towards  him,  caught  sight  of 
face  beneath  the  shaded  gas-light,  and  uttered  a 
little  cry  of  fear,  for  it  was  ghastly,  and  his  eyes  were 
bloodshot.  He. beckoned  her.  She  approached  and 
read  over  his  shoulder  the  lines  to  which  his  finger 
pointed. 

"  A  tragic  sequel  to  the  celebrated  Sunnington 
murder  is  reported  from  Nice.  Miss  Minna  Hart, 
the  daughter  of  the  late  Israel  Hart,  Esquire,  was 
found  dead  in  her  bed  this  morning.  An  empty  bottle 
that  had  contained  chloral  was  found  by  her  bedside. 
Whether  death  was  the  result  of  an  accident  or  not  is 
not  yet  ascertained." 

362 


Idols 

But  they  knew.  He  turned  in  his  chair,  and  they 
looked  in  silence  at  one  another.  The  dead  girl 
seemed  to  rise  up  between  them.  For  a  moment  they 
were  strangers. 

"  It  was  I  that  killed  her,"   he  said. 

"  Yes,  it  was  you." 

The  words  came  mechanically  from  her  lips.  They 
crushed  the  man  who  lay  back  in  his  chair,  broken  and 
helpless,  with  all  the  old  pride  gone. 

"  Then  I  had  better  follow  her,"  he  said,  staring 
moodily  in  front  of  him. 

There  was  a  long,  long  silence.  Irene  looked  at 
him,  her  hand  to  her  breast  as  if  to  suppress  tumultuous 
workings.  In  the  second  and  greater  crash  of  her 
illusions  she  had  not  felt  the  spasm  of  horror  and  revul- 
sion. She  had  only  mourned  the  desecration  of  the 
sun  in  her  heaven.  Her  idol  had  been  transmuted 
into  clay,  and  she  had  seen  herself  bereft  of  the  god  to 
whom  she  referred  all  the  promptings  of  her  soul. 
Her  chief  sensation  had  been  amazed  self-pity,  in 
which  her  broader  sympathies  had  no  part.  The 
moment  of  utter  separation  from  him  brought  a  flash 
of  insight,  and  she  saw  him  as  he  was,  a  man  con- 
fessed— erring,  high-minded,  weak,  patching  up  hon- 
our with  dishonour,  striving  after  noble  ends  by  base 
means,  a  contrast  of  opposites,  a  fusion  of  granite  and 
"  a  measure  of  shifting  sand,  from  under  the  feet  of 
the  years." 

363 


Idols 

"  I  have  made  a  ghastly  failure  of  life/'  he  said, 
14  but  I  can't  live  without  your  love." 

He  raised  his  eyes.  The  greit  pain  in  them,  un- 
like any  anguish  she  had  dreamed  of,  smote  her  sudden- 
ly, and,  like  a  magician's  staff,  opened  all  the  fountains 
of  her  nature  through  which  her  woman's  tender- 
ness gushed  forth.  She  rushed  to  him,  knelt  by  his 
side,  clinging  to  him  passionately,  sobbing  and  weeping. 

t(  Forgive  me,  dear,  forgive  me.  All  my  life  and 
love  are  yours  to  help  and  comfort  you." 

The  tremendous  revelation  had  come.  She,  the 
woman,  was  strong.  He,  the  man,  was  weak.  It 
was  for  her  to  protect  and  guide  him  through  life.  She 
felt  a  thrill  with  it  as  she  strained  him  to  her  heart. 

It  was  the  vivid  solution  of  her  life's  problem,  one 
diametrically  opposed  to  the  processes  she  had  blindly 
followed.  In  the  pulsating  happiness  of  finding  her 
warm  human  love  for  him  coursing  through  her  veins, 
she  accepted  it  with  tearful  gratitude.  The  god  was 
lost  in  the  weak,  proud  man,  to  whom  she  represented 
the  infallible  and  divine.  It  was  for  her  to  lead,  for 
him  to  follow. 

They  sat  long  together,  side  by  side,  on  this  night 
of  shock  and  reconciliation. 

"  God  help  us  all  who  drift,"   said  Hugh. 

<(  Love  will  guide,  dear,"   she  answered. 

u  Who  guided  her  ?"  he  asked,  motioning  to  the 
paper. 

364 


Idols 

*•  We  cannot  judge  her,"  said  Irene. 
They  were  nearer  in  thought  thin  they  had  ever 
been,  as  they  held  silent  communion  over  the  pitiful 
tragedy  that  had  shaken  their  lives.  For  each  felt  that 
its  cause  lay  not  altogether  in  despair  at  having  be- 
trayed a  vital  secret  to  a  deadly  enemy,  who  would 
use  it  to  deprive  her  of  her  fortune ;  that  it  lay  deeper 
in  the  roots  of  a  human  soul.  For  a  woman,  heart- 
poisoned  by  the  cup  of  life  that  she  drank,  with  its 
seething  ingredients  of  love,  jealousy,  bitterness,  fear, 
despair,  avarice,  self-contempt,  hate,  weariness,  re- 
morse, sense  of  wrong  received  and  dealt,  the  cu: 
of  race,  the  taint  of  wantonness,  the  flavours  of  nobLi 
things,  late  added — curdling  sourly  in  the  draught — a 
woman  so  sickened  to  her  death,  is  capable  of 
inconsistencies,  and  claims  at  least  the  grave  pity  of 
the  merciful. 

"  Will    you    forgive    me    for    saying    those 
words  ?  "   asked  Irene,   at  last.      "  They  came  from 
me,  I  don't  know  how." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  It  is  I  that  need  the  forgiveness. " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  I  would  not  forgive  yot 
for." 

"  And  that?" 

"  Ceasing  to  love  me,"   she  replied. 

And  so  they  passed  together  out  of  the  sha 

365 


Idols 

into  the  light  of  day.  But  it  was  the  day  of  April 
greys  and  sunlight  that  is  Life,  and  not  the  June 
glory  that  is  Illusion.  Irene's  eyes  were  opened ;  but 
if  her  outlook  was  more  sombre,  the  ground  beneath 
her  feet  was  more  secure.  A  sense,  too,  of  alonencss 
came,  but,  womanlike,  she  hid  it  in  her  heart,  and  the 
man  walked  with  her  unwitting,  with  regained  buoy- 
ancy of  step.  An  erring,  faulty  woman,  yet  of 
stronger  stuff  than  the  impetuous  man  she  loved  so 
deeply,  she  felt  at  times  a  pathetic  longing  for  the 
old  blind  worship.  At  such  times  she  would  look 
r fully  at  her  boy,  asking  herself  a  foolish  question; 
and  her  sweet  human  frailty  sought  to  read  the  answer 
in  the  child's  unfathomable  eyes. 


THB    END. 


BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

Books  :   to  a  fine  of 

•  aiing 
:<x>ks  not  in 
made  before 
m  period. 


AUTO  DISC. 
pEP  2b  1992 
CIRCULATION 


191931 

APR  19  1932 

JAN  0  . 


SOm-8/26 


• 


YB 


